"I happen to be a connoisseur of mysterious and strange tasting substances," he fires back, completely truthfully. Lyrium potions are also weirdly blue, if glowier, and less specifically toxic-tasting, but he isn't quite at 'random chatter' level, for all that 'offhanded quips' are always in season.

The look up and down at her is not specifically salacious, even if yes, his gaze gets lost briefly in her cleavage before dragging up to her face.

"Do you come here often?"

Hawke has no idea what's going on. This is like a really weird dream. Probably he has had this dream, if less specifically space age.