Kit Gandir has ...

[He hesitates - not his usual long pause where he seems to forget that he's talking, but genuinely hesitates as though to find the right words.]

He is dead.

[Might as well be straightforward about it. He's got a vice grip on his emotions now - his voice sounds even more monotone than ever.]

...I would request some aid in moving the body to a more appropriate location. There is quite a bit of blood.

Inquisition.

[Very serious, very Orlesian.]

There were three Fereldans walking the streets of Kirkwall and they came upon a large brown pile. As the streets of Kirkwall are so very narrow, the brown pile was quite blocking their way, so that they had but two choices to them: they could either tramp through the pile, or they could turn back.

The first Fereldan approached the pile, leaned down, and looked very hard at it. "By the Lady!" he said. "This looks like shit."

The second Ferelden approached the pile beside him, leaned down, and took a great big sniff. "Maker!" he cried. "This smells of shit!"

The third Ferelden approached the pile beside his companions, leaned down, put his finger into the pile, and the put his finger in his mouth. "By Andraste's sword!" he exclaimed. "This tastes of shit!"

The three Fereldens turned to go back the way that they had come, saying to one another, "It's a good thing we didn't walk in that!"

[GET IT.]

There! Now our mood is lightened. I welcome anyone that would try to outmatch me in jokes.