Iron Bull:  I used to think it was just me who thought you humans all look alike.
Blackwall:  And now…?
Iron Bull:  Clearly, you guys can’t tell each other apart, either. How the crap did you live as some other guy for all those years?
Blackwall:  I grew a beard.
Iron Bull:  Really? Puts some hair on your face, and no one can tell who you are anymore? That’s some disguise, big guy.
Blackwall:  And I didn’t talk to anyone for months at the time.
Iron Bull:  All right, that probably helped.

Dorian:  I’ve been thinking.
Blackwall:  Oh, this should be good.
Dorian:  I was about to say you’re too hard yourself, Blackwall.
Blackwall: Too hard on myself? Is this setting up a punchline?
Dorian:  You’re not the thug I thought you were. You’re not the thug anyone thought you were.
Blackwall:  Here it comes.
Dorian:  Point is: you should let yourself off the hook. I know bad men, and you’re not one.
Blackwall:  I’m not sure how to respond.
Dorian:  Of course not. Let’s not go crazy with defying expectations.

“The horses are spooked. Strange noises were heared in the loft. Things going bumb in the night.”

– The Bartender Cabot

Solas:  So, you and the Inquisitor are together.
Blackwall:  Yes. Is that a problem?
Solas:  Far from it. People should seize any chance for a moment’s respite in times such as these. I am glad you’ve allowed yourself some happiness.
Blackwall:  I expected you to think that I should keep punishing myself.
Solas:  I would be concerned if you forgot your past, but that seems unlikely. Beyond that, guilt is a distraction. One we can ill afford.
Blackwall:  What of you, then? Have you found someone to share a moment’s respite?
Solas:  I find my peace elsewhere.

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