Not that Hawke was complaining about having Fenris's hand, but it occurred to him how little they'd actually touched each other lately. Even when they had to make camp somewhere, Fenris made sure to sleep on the other side. In fact, Hawke realised belatedly, it was very nearly the same action Hawke had done that night--grabbing Fenris, stopping him, making Fenris react in turn. And the thought of that night was distracting, made Hawke's heart beat faster and his skin tingle where they were touched.

Then Fenris pulled away (because of course he did, because he made it perfectly clear that it was done), and Hawke caught his breath. He was thankful, a moment later, that at least his gaze hadn't gone anywhere other than Fenris's face.

"I don't know," he said after a moment, bemusedly. "I'm fairly sure I am, though I'd rather you didn't test the theory by poking me with your sword."

Not that one, anyway.

Hawke's upper brain caught up a moment after that, and his expression turned grim. "You think we're in the Fade?"