[he hums softly in agreement for that first statement, for that matters too. They were his friends, and they had helped one another out: happily or grudgingly didn't matter, for they still did it. They were still there for one another, even if they disapproved of the task in question. And Sebastian . . . he hadn't felt that pull. Perhaps it was due to timing; he only joined them properly three years after everyone else. Or perhaps he simply cared more about the Chantry than anything else, and that relationship triumphed over any other.]

At a guess: he felt he owed Hawke.

[He shifts again: this time pressing himself up against Astarion's torso, urging him into reclining back a little more, his legs stretching out as he does. It's clumsy affection, thoughtless and a little hungry, more intent on proximity than anything involving settling in. It's neediness, yes, but more than that: it's a sign of vague comfort. Anders is a difficult topic; Sebastian far less so.]

Hawke helped him avenge his family, and I assume he felt he owed her a debt. He did owe her a debt, frankly, as did we all. But to explicitly betray her trust and turn in her friends . . . I suspect he felt it wasn't honorable.

[Or maybe he just hadn't wanted to lose his allies. Who can say?

He's quiet for a moment, letting the answer sit in the air. And then, quietly:]

I'm glad you know.

[Of all of them. Sebastian and Anders, Merrill and Aveline, Varric and Isabela . . . all of them are important.]

I . . . it has been a long time since I spoke of them. I was too angry to do so before. But I . . . they were more family to me than any blood relation I have ever had. And I am glad to share them with you.

I would tell you more, too, if you would like to hear it. But I have a question of my own, [and there's a hint of a smile on his lips, faint but noticeable,] so long as we are revealing such truths to one another. Concerning something I found in your room.

[Not a bad thing, certainly, not judging from his expression or his bearing.]