[Sir, play with him in the space and accept the re-grifting of his tome. Anders clicks his tongue in mostly put-upon disappointment, mollified by the half-compliment of "you were handling that con just fine," but the bar is low. He should ease up on the bits, he thinks— remember how to have a normal conversation with another person, a skill left far behind in Kirkwall.

So, okay. Quit doing bits in self-defense, especially when this little guy with the glasses seems perfectly not-hostile.

He does pull a face at the wiggling glove, though.]

That might actually be cursed. If you haven't tried putting it on, I am pointedly suggesting you do not. Unless you're interested in losing a finger.

[Yuck. Burn the glove.]