He’s torn in that moment, stuck between Amelia’s stubborn streak and Hawke’s and the lingering need to do as he should and take control of the situation. He shouldn’t be indulging in this care, should he? Is that what they needed? Maybe.

It would also likely make him the biggest hypocrite of any plane if he turned them away.

He gathers what remains of his pride and lets out a long, quiet sigh while he relaxes into Amelia’s presence behind and above him and the cool sweep of mana at his throat.

The careless bruising and stretch left behind by rough use of his mouth and throat eases and, with it, most of what remained of the physical evidence of the violation barring his arm and lip. It was…something. A start. His next breath is a little easier still.

“That truly is enough.” His voice dips a little softer even with the rasp now missing and closes his eyes. “Thank you, loves.”

There’s still too much static and guilt and a cocktail of other things he can’t shake, fear, shame, and anger…but he couldn’t deny this was still better.

He knows what he wants to ask, but he keeps his peace. This has been plenty.