Tubers, squirrels, and salad. It takes him back to traveling with the Warden and for a moment beyond the crackling of the fire and the popping of fat he can almost hear a terrible joke as told by Alistair, the strumming of Leliana's lute, the rumbling snuffle of the Mabari, Wynne and Morrigan discussing something or another. Strange and dire as that time had been, a small part of him misses that sense of joined purpose, that sense of camaraderie unlike any he'd ever known.

He shakes off the fugue easily enough, pulling a small flask from his belt. "Dinner and brandy, what more could I desire?"