In another time or place her apology might have made him feel ashamed of himself, for doubting her, but here—there's a flicker, unbidden, of she dragged you here and she'll drag you further. He's only saved from saying something cruel by figure fleeing toward them, through Hawke's outreached arm. Fenris, fortunately enough, doesn't share Hawke's instinct to offer aid to strangers. He's fight or flight, or in this case one and then the other: he takes one step backwards, startled, and then settles just as quickly into more aggressive posture.

His fist flares blue-white, first, out of instinct. The light fades and he touches the grip of his unused gun instead.

"Hawke," he says, alarmed and meaning are you all right, and swings his flashlight beam to try to find the passenger. He's too late. He turns it back on her, focused on her arm and shoulder.