Lavellan rolled his eyes, something he’d seen humans do—Vivienne, in particular—on many occasions. It was a fun little gesture that conveyed a great deal of meaning. He was definitely amused, though, and maybe a little confused still. Lavellan supposed that summed up their … whatever this was between them fairly well. Hawke would continue to baffle him, and occasionally inspire a smirk.
In his experience, humans tended to appreciate verbal confirmation and physical reassurances when there was a dispute. So Lavellan offered his hand to Hawke freely, something that wouldn’t trigger anything because he was the one to initiate it. "Are we good?" He was referring to everything, all the ill-will and bad blood that had built up between them. He hoped they could move on from this with a clearer perspective.
After, the elf’s eyebrows hit his hairline. "… You gave her a halla statue." Well. Merrill was either the most powerful person in the Free Marches, or she was already dead. He was inclined to believe the former, if Hawke’s faith in her abilities was any indication. They might just have some hope of opposing Solas if elves like Merrill were out there. "I’ll craft something for her. What color did she wear most?" Lavellan thought of the gift he’d already started to make for Dorian. One more project would keep his hands busy.