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    Summary

    "Were you on fire?"

    Hawke grimaces. "Briefly."

    "You—" Anders quite literally bites his tongue, looking back over his shoulder. He can hear no templars nearby, nor can he see their torches, but it still wouldn't do to be overly loud. "—Will be the death of me."


    After a close call while liberating a Circle, Anders and Hawke take a moment to regroup.

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