[Hawke nods and pulls off her own shirt and kicks off her pants and changes into a light tank top and shorts for sleeping. There's no feeling of awkwardness or being uncomfortable. This is Nate. He's safe. He doesn't judge or cut at her. And right now he needs help.

As Hawke changes, Kitty rests his head on Nate's knee sensing, as animals do, that he needs comfort and a friend. When Hawke climbs into the bed and lays down on her back. Kitty jumps in too, settling himself on the end of the bed, there to protect them both from what he can.

For a few moments, there's nothing but quiet. Just the sound of them both breathing, Nate with exhausted sighs, and Hawke with slightly stuffy inhales. Finally, she speaks her eyes on the ceiling and not him so he can have some privacy.]

After Mother died, I didn't go home either. Not for a month. I couldn't be in that empty house without her. I went from house to house, whomever would take me. Varric, often. Then I got pneumonia and was stuck in his suite for a few weeks. I don't really recommend that part though.

So you can stay here as long as you'd like.

[She doesn't remember much of it, honestly. And what she does remember is pretty shitty. The nasty chill of an early an early winter, waking up from nightmares, screaming until she coughed so hard she vomited and cracked a rib. It was painful and miserable and it was still a lot less of both than she deserved.]