Fenris does look down at it, hands curling at his sides, not quite into fists. He has missed—

He has a gun. It's more useful by almost every measure.

This would be easier if this person—Hawke, in his head, still has something like air quotes around it, even though he understands the man isn't an imposter, really. Not an intentional one. But it would be easier if he were less familiar. If the rise and fall of his voice weren't just right, aside from how much deeper it is. But even if Fenris were on the verge of not resenting his existence, he would still resent the staff at his back, and the practical effect on his expression and posture would be the same. Blankly sullen, with his shoulders hunched inward, self-protective and pissed. All that's missing is a dwarf to make a crack about brooding.

"I doubt I know anything you don't," he says.