“The Jenny Lou who tried to propagate the word ‘himbo’ and asked what would happen if the Maker ‘fucked somebody’ in a public forum?”

That Jenny Lou?

Richard’s scrutiny falters long enough for him to look doubtful.

“Perhaps,” he allows, late, for the idea of a throttle. “The aether I draw from is not -- strictly speaking -- my own. I had assumed there might be some barrier or filter here between myself and my ‘overseer,’” that’s a word he used earlier in a completely different context, sure, “muddling the connection. If the tether was instead forced to ‘thin’ through this pipe…” His knee bounces for just a few seconds before he catches it, and stifles the movement.

“Regardless, no talent is involved, and there is nothing impressive about it. I have an obligation. I initially believed Thedas might be a place of punishment.”

He smiles for the first time. It’s barely there, and a little grim, like he expects that could still turn out to be the case. Another gathering breath, and he changes tack.

“It surprises me to hear that it took the arrivals of Stark and Fitz to inspire you into the study the nature of your own existence here.”