* Oghren: Ah. Yep. Lot of tension around here.
* Alistair: You think so, do you?
* Oghren: Know what I do to relieve tension?
* Alistair: I hesitate to wonder.
* Oghren: I polish the ol' weapon.
* Alistair: Really.
* Oghren: Yep. Give it a good shine. With a dry rag, then with a little grease.
* Alistair: That's disgusting.
* Oghren: You're telling me you never gave yer blade the old spit-shine?
* Alistair: I think that's private.
* Oghren: Really? Sodding Chantry and its rules. i like to do it right out in the open.
* Alistair: Where people can see you?
* Oghren: Yep.
* Alistair: Wait, what are you talking about?
* Oghren: What are you talking about?
* Alistair: (Sigh) Never mind.
And
[*]
Morrigan: You are a disgusting creature, dwarf. Did you
believe I would not see you? That scarf was my own.
[*]
Oghren: Bah! I had to blow my nose. Blasted surface air
tickles the nostrils.
[*]
Morrigan: You had no right to take what was not yours!
[*]
Oghren: Don't be such a squealing nug. You can use my
handkerchief any time.
[*]
Morrigan: If you have a handkerchief, then why not use
it?
[*]
Oghren: Too dirty. Yours was cleaner.
[*]
Morrigan: This is intolerable! Don't force me to test
that dwarven resistance of yours, fool.
[*]
Oghren: Promises, promises.
Modifié par The_Abyss, 26 février 2010 - 08:01 .