The elf was fairly obvious among the crowd. Hawke smiled the moment he entered, noticing that Lavellan appeared to be a bit tense. That wasn't strange to Hawke. He was used to spending time with Fenris who was always tense, always watching. Lavellan had the same wariness about him like he expected an attack to happen at any moment. Not an impossibility in this place but the tavern was generally safe.
"Oh, no," he said with a little laugh as he poured an ale for him. Hawke would cover the first drink. He felt he owed it to him for their little adventure with the undead where they protected and fought together. That was all it really took for him to buy someone a drink. "The Hanged Man was much smaller and much dirtier. They didn't clean the blood up."
He placed the ale in front of Lavellan and leaned folded his arms across the top of the bar for a conversation. "The place smelled of the unwashed masses and the poor. Usually there was a fight and one whore. On some nights there were two. It was Lowtown, so not a classy place but Maker it was friendly. I had a good time almost every time I went."