[ The major difference, the one he can't stop looking at, is the way Hawke is so visibly mage in here, from the curve of his muscles to his center of gravity. It's a difference that would probably be meaningless to anyone who hadn't memorized the body of a man who drew a bow and punctured armor with his daggers on a regular basis, but to Anders it's astronomical. Jarring in the same way the city is to Hawke. But he puts it aside, because they've had that conversation once already, and smiles instead. ]
Your hair's different.
[ Anders points out, resisting the urge to touch it. Also the urge to peel off his clothes and catalogue further differences, scars and freckles and all. Most of his urges are in fact Hawke-related, but there's an ever present third that makes him not quite willing to start anything. Not Justice — the operator, back out in the real world. The program should run itself, but Anders knows those guys check in, read the code like they're watching it play out in front of him, make tweaks. He doesn't want anyone reading about their sex life, as he once told Varric. ]
But your face is perfect.
[ Brusque, like it's not a compliment (it is). He'd probably still say it even if Hawke showed up without his nose or something, though, so it's not exactly reliable. For his part, Anders has fewer lines around his eyes, no strands of silver amidst the gold, his posture straighter and his frame meatier and his crooked smile familiar. Justice aged him in ways he wasn't even aware of, and though he's been free of that burden in the real world there is still a subtle difference to the man now holding Hawke's arm.
He has no intention of letting go of Hawke, though he might be convinced to link hands or slide an arm around his waist rather than holding onto him like a child. Normally he doesn't stay this close, but he has experience with traffic that Hawke doesn't, and it would be so typical for him to run off to explore some nook or cranny and get knocked out of the program by a cab. Instead, Anders steers them towards the greenery: this is supposed to be a city and park experience. ]
I haven't actually done this sim. But I've done others like it. For most unplugged, when you say "city", this is what they're thinking of.
no subject
Your hair's different.
[ Anders points out, resisting the urge to touch it. Also the urge to peel off his clothes and catalogue further differences, scars and freckles and all. Most of his urges are in fact Hawke-related, but there's an ever present third that makes him not quite willing to start anything. Not Justice — the operator, back out in the real world. The program should run itself, but Anders knows those guys check in, read the code like they're watching it play out in front of him, make tweaks. He doesn't want anyone reading about their sex life, as he once told Varric. ]
But your face is perfect.
[ Brusque, like it's not a compliment (it is). He'd probably still say it even if Hawke showed up without his nose or something, though, so it's not exactly reliable. For his part, Anders has fewer lines around his eyes, no strands of silver amidst the gold, his posture straighter and his frame meatier and his crooked smile familiar. Justice aged him in ways he wasn't even aware of, and though he's been free of that burden in the real world there is still a subtle difference to the man now holding Hawke's arm.
He has no intention of letting go of Hawke, though he might be convinced to link hands or slide an arm around his waist rather than holding onto him like a child. Normally he doesn't stay this close, but he has experience with traffic that Hawke doesn't, and it would be so typical for him to run off to explore some nook or cranny and get knocked out of the program by a cab. Instead, Anders steers them towards the greenery: this is supposed to be a city and park experience. ]
I haven't actually done this sim. But I've done others like it. For most unplugged, when you say "city", this is what they're thinking of.