[ before tonight, tony wouldn't have pegged lucanis as the type to sit and watch the sunrise, nor the type to cook or to carefully tend to someone's wounds. he thought that he had the man figured out: lucanis was an assassin, paid to kill, with an unusual sense of justice tacked on, one who comes from old money and whose motivations were to benefit himself. (in hindsight, that last part was the distrust talking.) but there's more to him. tony just never cared enough to look deeper, not into him, or into many things about thedas. ]

I think my mood better suits brooding in a dark corner, which–hey, plenty to pick from, [ he murmurs dryly. then, tony softens and continues, ] But thanks. Maybe I'll take you up on that one day. [ he owes lucanis at least that much. ]