It's just like old times. Well, for Isabela it is old times, given that she last saw Hawke a few days ago; for Hawke it's been years. But it still feels just like old times.

Whatever. The point is, it's good. Two rogues are better than one, four daggers are better than two, and 7,000 sylvs multiplied by however many will equal a lot of ale for the two of them to share, assuming Isabela hasn't yet found the local hat store.

"As many as we can find and carry back," Hawke says, looking down at the dragony-thing's corpse. "I'm hoping for three or four, especially since you didn't let me have any fun killing this one. Hasn't anyone ever taught you to share?"

Manners, Isabela, manners! Hawke wants to stab things too, after all.