There's a gap of silence, one Hawke has any number of things to say to fill it -- instead, his brow tips quizzical right back at Fenris throughout enduring study. Yyyyyes?

...yyyno. At the conclusion the elf reaches, Hawke's expression remains fixedly skeptical, right up to dismissal and a beat after. Then; "Ah, yes," he says, with a dimly sarcastic fist swing across his torso, "there's that wacky sense of humour only I have come to appreciate from you during times of stress."

His hands drop to his sides. Flatter; "Fenris, it's me, Hawke. How outside of time could we possibly be?"