"I never got that," she answers. "Grew up in north Ferelden, but apparently when you look like an ox, they skip right past the dog comparisons." Being called an ox only bothers her because it's not even creative. Put a little effort into it, or don't fucking bother.

"The rain's only bothering me because my boots are pieces of shit and falling apart. I can barely walk in the damn things. I just slide instead." But now she gives him an intrigued look. "Got any Vashoth-sized boots in your supplies?" The fact that he looks beat to the Void and back? Not surprising in the least.