The Inquisition was interesting to say the least. Not quite what he'd expected, but nothing he couldn't deal with. This was a new stage, a new performance! He had the opportunity to create new stunning works of art out of whatever targets he was pointed towards. He would bring death, and it wouldn't be like The Game. It would help Thedas. Something to feel good about, something-

The loud snore next to him instantly brings about thoughts of Orlais. How nice it would be to be back there in this moment, sleeping peacefully. Or killing someone, because The Game was never ending. Simply anything that wasn't dealing with the thoughts of wanting to stab his unfortunate tentmate.

He sits up with a sigh. One. Two. Three. Four. Finger tapping against his leg as he tries to settle himself. One. Two. Three. And Jhin's up and out of the tent, humming quietly.

He needs some air... And to get away from that awful snoring for at least a moment.

  There's a frown behind his mask, though none could see it. Bodies to loot, yet none for him to kill. Assisting with finding anything useful for the archives also needed to be done. Tasks that weren't quite his thing, but he helped with anyway. Being part of the Inquisition didn't always mean targets to assassinate, something he was quickly (albeit begrudgingly) getting used to.

When the darkspawn show, he sighs, relieved.

"Oh, thank the Maker."

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