Anders hesitates. There's something in Hawke's voice he doesn't quite understand, but the idea of not knowing Hawke, the man he's followed around for more than six years now, is a surprisingly painful one. If nothing else, at least he could say he knew the Champion of Kirkwall, that once they'd even fought side by side. It had been... something.

And he can see that Hawke - this Hawke, the way he acts now, whatever that is - thinks of him as a friend. And that is information he is utterly lost as to how to deal with.

It's becoming more and more difficult to shrug this place off as a dream or a desperate hallucination, too. It doesn't feel like one, and he should have enough experience by now to tell. That means that this Hawke - whoever he is - it's still almost too strange to think of him as real. But he had to be. A real person, at least. Trying to work that out is only going to give him a headache.

He turns away, unable to quite meet that gaze, dropping his hand down in the process. He shrugs a little, to cover the momentary silence.

"Tell me about this place," he suggest. He's ready to listen. At least, it's easier to talk about that then how it is that they know different versions of each other. Is someone playing a trick on them?

They can work that out later. For now he has to know how to react to everything else.