Everyone does. It's just the shape of me. [ It's not unusual. It's just part of what he does. He hears them, they get into his mind. No one apologises, though. Solas perhaps, when he shuts him out. The apostate doesn't like it, tells him there's pains he can't help. He is sad, when he does. ]

I don't get sick. I can't. [ Not him, not with what he is. ]

Passed through time. The notes are splintered, scattered. You start but... can never finish. You will remember it again. Remember you.