[The clear disapproval stings, as if he's being judged, and Anders folds his arms across his chest defensively.]

You're talking about someone who walked up to me with the confidence that she could get away with striking. If I walked up to a Templar and hit them, I would pay. Even before I destroyed the Chantry, that was the way of things. I was--

[No. He breaks off. No details, not when he's already being found wanting. Opening up is terrifying normally; right now would be even worse.]

You're a mage.

[As if that changes things, makes all the difference. It doesn't. Sometimes, though, like now, Anders wishes it did.]