[ there's a bark of laughter, slightly hysterical, as he reaches the end of this memory, because: ]

Gods, I have some bad news about that vacation of yours, friend. [ but his hand is in the swamp water, fingers fisted in hawke's shirt in preparation to haul her out the moment that things seem a little too dicey. it doesn't comfort him to know that she might be suffering like this, too, but the fact that a group came back, used it, and managed to get healed... even if it's like this, with effects after... ] C'mon, you damned hellscape, let her up... I got questions for you, and your boy wants you out of here.