You can't kill boxes.
"Is this the one, Anders?"
Hawke slants his head slightly towards the mage but it's difficult to see anything in this light. Anders nods gravelly, his silhouette outlined as moonlight streams in from the docks behind them. The abandoned warehouse groans in protest, the old wood creaks and the rusty machinery rattles impatiently.
"This is definitely the one; my sources wouldn't mess up something as vital as this."
Hawke nods but doesn't make an effort to move. The group stands awkwardly in front of a large crate placed in the centre of the room. The bodies of the few guards are littered around the doorways but now they've fought for their prize, they seem hesitant to claim it.
Anders approached Hawke a week ago with information of a new templar weapon that had been shipped to Kirkwall to deal with the restless mages and hidden apostates. Hawke being one of those apostates and a sympathizer of Ander's cause had agreed to help him track the crate down. And now here it stood, waiting patiently for them to open it. Hawke's fingers itched, he reached forward.
"Wait," Anders gripped his arm, "if this is a Templar weapon then is it wise for a mage to open it."
"Good point," Hawke quickly dropped his hand and turned to his companions. He smiled at Varric sweetly.
"I'm not opening it," Varric eyed the box venomously; "I'm not a huge fan of nasty surprises."
"Me too," Isabella said, "maybe we should kill it first."
"You can't kill a box can you?" Merrill asked.
"No, and if we try that we may damage whatever's inside," Anders mused.
"Fine," Fenris rolled his eyes and stepped forward.
He paused, hands lingering on the catch. There was a sense of trepidation deep in his gut that he didn't trust in the slightest but he was curious. Curiosity killed the cat. He drew a deep breath before yanking the side of the wood open. Immediately a girl tumbled out. Well he hadn't expected that.
"It's a girl!" Ander's exclaimed. He rushes forwards and kneels down by the crumpled body. She was unconscious, legs curled underneath her and her arm slung lazily over her face hiding her face form view.
"Your observation skills are impressive," Fenris retorts drily.
Hawke's brow furrows with confusion while Isabella steps forward to curiously observe the girl also. She leans close as if she were about to kiss the sleeping form goodnight, then inhales slightly.
"She smells like the sleeping powder used when trading animals. You drug them to stop them moving around in the crates and damaging the merchandise."
"This doesn't make sense," Hawke frowns.
"Maybe the weapon thingy is still in the crate," Isabella suggested, "and they just like using people as packaging."
"Traders are funny like that," Varric said.
Hawke ran his hands all over the wood, inside and out, his face creased in concentration.
"No there's nothing there."
"What do we do now?" Merrill asked, looking at Hawke expectantly.
They stared at the body, a narrow shaft of silver moonlight cut through the scene.
"We need to get it out of here, so we can see properly what we're dealing with," Hawke said, stroking his beard in completion.
"She can't come to the clinic, there'd be no room if the refugees needed aid," Anders said, "and refugees always need aid."
"The barracks are out of the question, I mean Aveline has already warned me about taking her with me," Hawke began.
"And she'd blow her little carrot top if we brought this," Isabella smirked, "I say we take her to the barracks just for fun."
Hawke raised an eyebrow but his eyes were soft. Isabella shrugged in response.
"We can't take her to my house," Hawke said, "Gamlen is… inappropriate."
They all nodded solemnly.
"Or the Hanged man. She'd fit right in there, unconscious girls are dragged through that door all the time but it's a bit too noisy for an integration. The reply to every question would be "what? Pardon?"" Varric frowned.
"If we dragged her through Hightown we'd probably alert the guard," Fenris mused.
"I vote Hightown," Isabella cried.
"Then you'd have to talk to Aveline," Hawke added.
"I don't vote Hightown," Isabella cried.
"That leaves the Alienage," Carver said, his back turned to them as he inspected the body.
"Oh," said Merrill, "I live there."
"We know Daisy," said Varric patiently.
"That's our best option actually," Hawke stroked his beard.
"What, two elves, five humans and a dwarf," Merrill pointed at the sleeping girl, "won't that seem suspicious?"
"Yes but the elves aren't going to want to draw attention to themselves," Hawke said, "They'll want to keep out of trouble."
"Actually," Carver said bent over the body, "make that one dwarf, four humans and two and a half elves."
They turned confused.