When he chooses, he can be as heartfelt and serious as the next rogue, mage, or warrior. That it is his nature to tease and poke at another's inconsistencies is merely self-preservation. These things keep him from having to admit that from time to time, things hurt deeply. He has come to expect that things will wound him to the core, and those things he cares far more about than wounds of the flesh.

Morrigan seemingly has little patience for him, but did she ever? No. They have been at odds since he found himself flat on his back in the countryside, ready and waiting for the elusive Grey Warden to put an end to him. So he talked his way out of that one -- the attempt was a last gasp, one at which he truly did not expect to succeed -- only to find himself on a journey he never intended to take. Indebted yet again, but to a new master. Well, he is done with being owned.

To Morrigan, he flashes his best smile. If she is leaving, then there is no need to prolong the conversation for any reason.

"It is my burning quest, to try harder not to get killed. So far I have been successful. If you do the same, perhaps we will meet again at some point, my friend."

He uses the word lightly, and yet he never uses the word lightly. It is, of course, of little matter. They owe each other nothing, and it will likely ever be the same.