"You're not bullying the poor guy are you?"

"I don't...know...any others..."

"My crew, my rules, Mischa, stay out of this."

Sympathetic Circe is not. Still she slides off the rock. "Watch," she orders, and demonstrates breaststroke.

Anders makes a couple of clumsy attempts, before working out a rhythm. "Okay, this is slightly more dignified. Also, nice to finally meet the man of the cave!"

"I have to admit I wasn't sure what to expect when Circe said they'd fished sharkbait out of the water."

"Apparently sharkbait in your world means tall, lanky men."

"Sharkbait means floundering at sea."

"See. I missed that memo as well."

"I was indeed floundering at sea, so I cannot fault my captain there."

"I guess it's accurate then."

"Of course it is."

Anders watches their interaction with some interest, and a little bit of concern.

"You haven't finished your laps," Circe reminds him.

"Damn. Was hoping you hadn't noticed."

He gets back to swimming.

"There's not all that much that Circ misses," Mischa says, and there's a hint of something underneath his words there.

Anders doesn't pry, but he knows that tone. He daresay he sounded much the same talking to Hawke in those first few years they knew each other. 

"Lot of work keeping this cave, Mischa?" He tries to change the subject.

"It mostly keeps itself. The work is handling all the damn outlaws I seem to have befriended."

"Where one comes many will follow. I know that feeling well," he smiles, working hard not to take in water when he speaks.

Mischa laughs. "Something like that."

"Eh. We need somewhere where we're not going to be shot at."

"Don't tempt me."

"If anyone gets shot, I can heal them!"

"That'll be handy."

"You can't accuse me of not having forethought."