Carver clunked his tankard on the bar heavily. His eyes were glossy and unfocused, the sound of the Hanged Man behind him a dull roar against the screaming thoughts in his head. First father, then Bethany, and now mother. How much more was the world going to take from him?
He sneered at the newly filled tankard, as tempted to pick it up and throw it at the wall as he was to simply lift it to his lips and down it. Just like the one before it. And the others before that.
"Ir abelas." Merrill's soft lilt stirred him from his reverie. Anyone else Carver might have turned away. Anyone else he might have hurled the half empty mug at. But this was Merrill. She was different. Carver glanced at her, but huffed out a sigh as he looked at the bar top again.
"Varric told me," she explained, softly. Merrill slid into the open seat to his right. With care, she set her hand on his forearm. "Whatever you need, I'm here."
Carver couldn't help looking at her again. Those big sweet eyes, her delicate features, the soft and caring expression. He clenched his jaw, tensing underneath her soft touch as he continued to force back the tears that threatened to fall.
"I…" He choked on the words, eyes watering more. Twisting away from her, he slammed his eyes shut and curled into himself.
Merrill leaned in closer to him, one hand still on his forearm as she lifted the other to rub soothing circles along his back. Resting her cheek against his upper arm, she stayed silent for a long time while Carver shivered under her touch; struggling more and more to keep his tears at bay. He felt queasy, his whole body ill at ease. Without the constant flow of the alcohol, he began to feel cold and distant.
"You know," she cooed. "It's okay to cry, Carver."
He trembled a few more times before the flood gates opened. Tears streaked down his cheeks, silent sobs bringing on short and ragged breaths. Merrill leaned all that much closer to him, whispering soft words over the din of the bar, soothing lullabies and comforting prayers. All the while giving his forearm a gentle squeeze and continuing to trace gentle circles along his back.