Varric

"Hawke, be reasonable." He attempted to say and mostly managed without slurring. He'd started drinking early in the afternoon at a merchant's meeting and had bumped into a despondent Hawke who required some drinking herself. So far it had been a very long, alcohol fueled day.

"No, no, no." She said shaking her head and then becoming visible sickened by the motion.

Once her color improved, she screwed on her serious face again. "I'm not staying here! Or anywhere else-I'm going home NOW." She said loudly, invoking as much gravitas as possible while struggling to leave her seat at the Hanged Man's table.

Varric watched her flop ineffectually against the dwarven chair and muttered some of his favorite curses under his breath. He was in no state to handle surly friends.

Knowing he was less drunk than Hawke, but still in no shape to see her home, he scanned the room for any helpful allies.

Isabela was nowhere to be seen, of course, even though the hard liquor they had imbibed had been at her behest, part of some drinking game that had seemed fun at the time. In hindsight, it had been fairly ill advised.

Donnic and Aveline had long ago departed to their home and Varric felt a distinct pang of disappointment that the stolid guard captain wasn't around. Aveline could wrangle Hawke at her most intransigent, either by verbally or physically subduing her.

"Shit" he muttered soulfully.

She had managed an upright position, but Hawke was still struggling for balance, grasping at the table to keep standing, when he spied Merrill still playing cards with Fenris a few tables away with some city guards Varric recognized in passing from earlier in the evening when Donnic and Aveline had still been playing.

"Wait a second there Hawke, ok? Lemme ask the Elf and Daisy something real quick before you go." He said to Hawke who was unsteadily swaying even as she held on to the chair.

"Ok Varric, but only because you're my good, good friend. I want to go…" she began to ramble, insisting again, making Varric roll his eyes as he turned away from her. He wished his friend was a less belligerent drunk.

"Saved by sober elves!" he thought with a grin and laboriously made his way towards his companions. He noted curiously that his feet felt enormous. "Like a Qunari!" he exclaimed to no one in particular as he struggled to maintain his composure. He wanted to giggle very badly. He was beginning to entertain the idea that he was perhaps more inebriated than he had first thought. He would probably have stern words for himself tomorrow about that.

He made it to Fenris' side and leaned heavily on the elf's shoulder for a moment.

Fenris glowered at him and shrugged his hand off. "Right, right, prickly, brooding, no touching." He muttered. This caused the elf to give him the side eye and very deliberately ignored him.

Time and, more immediately, alcohol had made Varric lose some of his initial trepidation with Fenris. The elf had originally seemed as trustworthy as a starving wolf. Experience had shown him his bite was worse than his bark.

"Honestly, if the guy wanted to kill you, he didn't bother warning you about it first."

Gathering all his considerable charm, he shook the elf's shoulder, shortly getting a response from him.

"What do you want Dwarf?" he growled, not bothering to give Varric a look.

Looking over the elf's shoulder, Varric could see that his cards were pretty good and he was probably going to make a fairly profitable win at the end of this round if he didn't screw it up. The elf would win more if he'd bother learning to cheat properly like Isabela had tried to teach him to do, but he'd noticed the elf was always leery of spending too much time alone with the pirate. Knowing Isabela and knowing Fenris, Varric could see the wisdom in that.

He nodded and made a benign face at the other players who shot suspicious glances his way. My reputation precedes me. He thought. However, he had a mission to carry out and a dwarf on a mission was not easily deterred.

"Elf, I'm going to ask you for a favor you may not want to do, but I know you'll definitely do it." He said, possibly not being as persuasive or diplomatic as he might have hoped.

"That sounded a lot better in my head. Eh, whatever. "

A quick glance at Hawke, revealed her animatedly talking to Corf, saying something that made him nod sagely. Hawke always spoke to the barkeep last when leaving the Hanged Man.

He needed to get rolling.

"What do you need Varric?" Fenris said tersely, still not bothering to look at him. "Stubborn bastard!"

"Here's what I propose. I'll sit in for you at this game, win you a bigger pot that you ever would, give you all the winnings tomorrow, if…" he paused dramatically.

"If?" Fenris asked raising one dark brow, finally giving Varric an impatient glance over his shoulder.

"If you make sure Hawke gets home safe." He finished, giving his most benign smile.

The raised eyebrow was transforming into a scowl.

Varric was now exasperated with the whole situation. "In vino veritas" he thought and decided that the time for politeness had passed.

"Damn it, Fenris. She's being impossible. She's too drunk to walk, but insists on heading up to Hightown, by herself. If anyone in this shit-hole can keep her safe, it's a former bodyguard and supposed friend. In my current condition, that means you." Varric caught his breath as he saw Hawke ducking though the door. He hoped bald-faced honesty would help the cause. And because he was inebriated and desperate, he stared pointedly at the red scarf the elf had been wearing on his wrist for a couple of years now. He knew what it meant. He had listened and comforted Hawke for several nights after. As far as he was concerned, the elf owed Hawke big time.

The elf's expression was indescribable as he glanced to where Hawke had just been standing. The door was slowly swinging shut and two thugs were slipping out, hot on her heels.

"Fasta vass, you should have said so before." He pursed his lips and somehow Varric found himself in Fenris' still warm seat. The elf slapped his cards into his hand and glowered at him briefly. "All my winnings Dwarf. Tomorrow."

Varric had forgotten how quickly the warrior could move when necessary. With a curt nod at the rest of the players, Fenris stalked out of the Hanged Man after Hawke.

Feeling satisfied that the Hawke situation was well in hand; Varric turned his attention to the bemused looking players at the table. He shuffled the hand he's been given, smiled wickedly at the two guards and gave Merrill a sly wink.

"You heard the man, I'm expected to give him his winnings tomorrow. Lets do this" he said, his mind already churning with all the tricks he would employ to maximize the elf's winnings and maybe win himself a little something for his trouble.

Drunk or not, Varric Tethras was the best Wicked Grace player in Kirkwall and he wasn't going to let something as trifling as being falling down drunk discredit him.