Mmm-hm. [Hawke quirked a brow, smirk once again playing at her her lips.] Tell you what. If we find anyone living who doesn't think she's my dead mother, we can see if they know a seamstress.

[With her piece said, Hawke plopped down once more. D.T. quickly ran over to her, springing into her lap (and eliciting a soft 'oof' from the mage). After contenting the beast with a few head scratches, she turned her attention back to Anders.]

Speaking of finding people... what next?