The change in Hawke is almost immediate, the easy teasing look to her slipping off almost like water flowing down a slope. She can remember hearing the bomb go off, seeing the whole of the chantry turn red and then disappear entirely, vaporized by Maker knows what. Guilt swells up in her with the knowledge that her hand played a role in that, the blood of the clerics and whoever else was inside is on her hands no matter what anyone says, but she shoves it aside. The automatic joke that wells up to take its place feels like acid on her tongue and so, for once, she shoves that aside as well.

"We don't have that where I'm from. Magical bombs, apparently, but not that. And our wars aren't fought in trenches or craters. It's all face-to-face where you can easily see the person who's trying to kill you."

It's getting a little too close to actual feelings and emotions for her, so she tries to push past it all and find something else to focus on. Something that won't be as difficult to push through or bring with it the hint of some of her less pleasant past events.

"I don't know about a place called Europe, though. I'm from Thedas."