The question throws her off, and the suggestion even more so. Hawke is made of scars, once cut open and often crudely healed over. She carries all of her mistakes with her, in body, in mind, in soul. "They're a part of me, I can't stop carrying them. No one else can carry them for me." Her friends tried, and she used to let them try. When they were a team, they could share a burden, but at the end of the day she was the Champion. She was responsible for the city and for each of them.

"I wouldn't know how to forgive myself if I tried," she admits after a long few seconds of thought. It would be much easier to laugh this off or uncomfortably change the subject. Maybe it's the fact he can't see her that it helps. Hawke wears a mask of smiles, and sometimes they are genuine, and sometimes they're simply exhausted and forced. Now her smile fades and her weariness remains.

"I was supposed to save my city, and I helped destroy it instead. I let my feelings get in the way of my common sense." Something she almost never was stupid enough to do. She fell in love, like an idiot, and thought things could get better, like a colossal fool. "They were counting on me, and I failed. There isn't forgiveness for that."