Dragon Age: Torchwood Episode Two "Pointy-Eared Street Punks"

Chapter 1: Unfinished Business

CONTENT:

Rating: Mature

Flavor: Action/Adventure/Comedy/Drama

Language: maybe

Violence: no

Nudity: no

Sex: no

Other: none

Number of Gratuitous Jack Deaths: 0/0

Author's Notes:

This picks up just about where "End of Days" left off. (The DA:TW "End of Days," not the canon "End of Days.")

Absolutely nothing important happens in this episode; the elves just get settled in. Unless you consider hot Jack/Zevran action "important." In which case, stay tuned.

Note: My Brain insists that Ianto lives in an apartment above the Tourist Shop. Yes, I've seen the Tourist Shop; it doesn't have two storeys. Let alone three, because my Brain also insisted that Bannon & Zevran get the apartment on the floor above Ianto's. I can't correct this, because many future plots depend on them being up there. I've made it a bit more manageable by putting the kitchen on the same level as the Tourist Shop (sort of a private back room), and fitting Ianto and the elves' apartments on the floor above.

Unfinished Business

===#===

The debriefing lasted nearly an hour, mainly consisting of a long laundry list of damage done to the Hub, the vehicles, the city, and the rest of the world. Ianto had work order forms for Jack to sign, which he did while complaining to Gwen, "I was out four days and you didn't stage a coup? I'm disappointed in you."

The double shifts he'd assigned everyone would help in the weeks of clean-up to come, an added bonus. He didn't really blame them for their actions. They'd all been duped, enticed by the one thing they most desired. But his team still seemed skittish and guilt-ridden. Punishment would help them get back on an even keel.

Jack was feeling much better, and quite stuffed after making a pig of himself on the meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and gravy. "So," he said, looking to Tosh, "shall we check up on our departed guests?"

She nodded eagerly and punched up their GPS trackers on her laptop. She breathed a sign of relief. "They're in the Plass."

Jack frowned slightly. "I thought they'd get further than that."

"What could they be doing up there?" Gwen wondered.

Ianto said, "Perhaps they're busking. Putting on a little show of medieval swordplay for the tourists."

"Well, we can find out," Tosh said. "They're in range of the water tower camera." She activated the controls to extend the camera, then panned it around. Ianto, Gwen, and Owen watched the screen behind Jack. Toshiko frowned. "I don't see them."

Ianto said, "Maybe they mugged someone for civilian clothing?"

"Look for some long-haired weirdoes," Owen suggested.

"I know what they look like," Tosh grumbled. Jack shot his brows up at her, and she flushed slightly. Eyes back on her screen, she muttered, "They should be right there. Wait a minute..."

Jack swiveled his chair around to look at the wall screen. Tosh flipped back to the GPS map, then superimposed an overlay of the Hub schematics. The view zoomed in.

"According to this," she said with dismay, "they're still in the loo."

Jack shot a look at Ianto, who met his eyes with the same look of shock. The office manager bolted out the door, followed by Gwen, then Jack and Owen.

Ianto burst through the door of the upstairs loo, and with a groan of dismay, went to the sink, which was piled with clutter. He fished out the two smart phones that served as GPS trackers.

"How?" said Jack. "They're from a primitive culture, how could they know about electronic trackers?"

"I don't think they did," Ianto said, picking random items from the sink: a can of shaving cream, a safety razor, a tube of toothpaste. "I think they just rifled the packs and threw out anything they didn't recognize."

"Those elves are damned clever," Owen griped.

"Tosh!" Jack yelled back towards the conference room. "Go back thr-"

"Whatever you're about to say, I'm already doing it!"

The others returned to the conference room. Tosh was working away at her laptop. Owen, much to everyone's surprise, muttered something about washing up, and took the tray of empty food containers and coffee mugs out.

He must be feeling very guilty. Jack made a note to keep an eye on him. Ianto looked at a bit of a loss, but he didn't take the opportunity to gibe the doctor about his uncharacteristically altruistic behavior.

"I've got them!" Tosh said a moment later. "They actually haven't gone that far. They're sitting in the bus shelter in front of the Millennium Center." She looked up, and the others followed her gaze to the screen, where a CCTV camera showed the bus stop. A group had just disembarked and were milling around, and the two medieval swordsmen were sitting on the bench, garnering a lot of strange looks.

"Hmph," Jack snorted. He'd really expected them to keep moving, but this worked out even better. "I'll go talk to them. Ianto, draw up a roster for clean-up and repairs. Tosh: prioritize the list of alien problems to sift the most urgent to the top."

"What about the Defense Minister?" Ianto asked. "He's been demanding to see you."

"Fob him off a few more days; I have more important things to do than kiss up to the ministry. Tell him I'm still in a coma."

"You'd best not answer your phone then," Ianto suggested.

"You can keep fielding my calls."

"Yes, sir."

Jack grabbed his coat and strode to the invisible lift. He activated the controls with his wrist strap and rode up into the afternoon sun. At the top, he paused to take in a deep breath of the late spring air. Warm concrete, cold wet steel, and the underlying sea-smell of the wharf entered into his lungs, made him feel so alive.

Four days. That was a long time for his body to recover. Abaddon must have taken a lot out of him, but he was still here. Could he be slowing down? Perhaps the creature had drained his well nearly dry. Perhaps he was closer to a final death than he had been for two centuries. What ate at him was just not knowing.

If things went according to plan, he'd have the answers sometime soon. He scanned the Plass, looking for anything out of the ordinary, as a force of habit.

Then he shook his head and stepped off the curb.

===#===

Jack sat at the end of the bench, opposite the elves. Another bus rolled up to discharge and take on passengers. They must be confused, what with a World War II RAF Captain and a pair of Medieval Fantasy swordsmen, and nary a sci-fi convention in sight. Jack beamed a wolfish grin at some of the more persistent gawkers - not exactly the poster-boy grin of seduction, but one with a little mania thrown in, to scare them off.

The bus pulled out, leaving the smell of carbon monoxide fumes lingering in the air. Jack moved closer to Bannon, thought not too close. "So, can't figure out bus fare, hm?"

The elf gave him a dismissive snort. Zevran, on the other side of Bannon, leaned his arms on his knees so he could watch the captain.

"Or even busses," Jack went on. "ATM machines, mobile phones, laundromats, television, the internet, fast food, internal combustion engines..." He thought a moment. "Banks. Do you have banks on your world?"

Bannon was frowning at the long list of unfamiliar terms. "What, like on the river?"

Jack chuckled. "No. There is a lot you guys need to learn."

"What is your point?" Zevran asked in his hot Latin accent.

"I'm just saying, it can be tough acclimating to a new world." He sat at his ease on the bench, just hanging out, having a casual conversation. He watched the street, but he was carefully studying the elves' reactions in his peripheral vision. Bannon didn't like being made to look stupid.

"Out of curiosity," Jack asked, "what did you guys do for a living back on your world?"

"We're Grey Wardens," Bannon said.

"What is it that Grey Wardens do?"

"We fight darkspawn. Stop the Blight. Slay Archdemons."

Zevran added, "Save the world, solve everybody's problems, do all the work... Sound familiar?"

Jack chuckled. "Funny, it sounds a lot like what we do in Torchwood." These Wardens did sound a lot like upstanding defenders of the innocent and other sundry civilians. He could definitely use them on his team. "What's a darkspawn?"

Bannon's dark eyes met his. "You don't have darkspawn here?"

"If we do, we don't call them that."

"They're Tainted creatures. Vicious... evil."

Jack gave a slight shake of his head. That could be anything from advertisers to zombies. "Monsters?"

"Monsters," the elf confirmed.

"When an Archdemon arises," his partner added, "it leads the horde up from the Deep Roads to Taint the surface world in a Blight. The Grey Wardens end the Blight by killing the Archdemon."

Before Jack could ask, Bannon said, "That's one really huge, Tainted, pissed-off, insane dragon, if you didn't know."

Jack tipped his head in acknowledgement. He thought back to the battle with the Allosaur. The aspersions that it was 'small' and 'didn't even have wings' came into focus. "You... you've killed an Archdemon?"

Bannon nodded. "Yeah."

"I helped," Zevran stuck in.

"With help," Bannon admitted a beat later.

"Damn, that's impressive," Jack admitted freely. Zevran grinned cockily, but Bannon's expression hardly softened. This guy was going to be difficult to manipulate. Zevran seemed far too easy, but Jack reserved judgment on that count. He'd already underestimated these elves once. "There aren't a lot of jobs on this world that match your skillsets. I know this is going to sound like a line, but the only one in town hiring monster hunters is me."

Bannon narrowed his eyes in a look of dark suspicion.

Jack shrugged. "Honestly, although you can do what you want, I think Torchwood is your best option."

Zevran said something softly, something in an unintelligible language.

Bannon waved him off with a flick of his hand, his hard gaze never leaving Jack. "Don't you already owe us for helping you? When are you going to send us home?"

"We can't do that," Jack said. Opening the Rift was bad, whether some gigantic alien demon was trapped inside it or not.

"Don't give us more of your bullshit," Bannon snapped. "First it's all how you're our friend, you want to help us. Then it's capturing us and stuffing us in your dungeon. Then more lies about how you'll help us if we help you; and now you expect us to come work for you? I know you can send us back, you have that magical device for opening the Veil."

"Whoa, whoa, easy!" Jack held up a hand. Clearly, that was not the way to handle this elf. "Let me explain. What I meant was, we can't just open the Rift to send you home." What Bannon said was, in fact, true. But- "We need the exact coordinates, and we don't actually know where your world is." He took a breath. "So we need to do some research. In the meantime, you can subsidize this research by working with us."

The elf's eyes narrowed to slits at the use of the fancy modern lingo. "And you're such a trustworthy guy, we're going to take your word for it that there are no other mages in the whole world who could possibly help us."

"Okay; well, look." Damn, this guy was tough. "Try it for a couple of months. Once we get you up to speed on how this world works, you can do your own research. Wouldn't that be better than wandering off with no idea where to go, or how to find what you're looking for?"

Zevran leaned close to his comrade and offered another opinion.

Bannon rolled his eyes. "Es un carretada de cazco," he hissed back.

Zevran said something else, and Jack hoped Bannon would heed it, because it sounded like the blond was on his side.

"All right,"Bannon said, turning his full attention back to the captain. "But for these two weeks, we get paid in real gold coins, not vague promises."

Jack tried not to grin. "Ah, we don't use that for money, here."

"What do you use?" the elf scoffed. "Leaves?"

It was really difficult not to laugh. "Okay, the first lesson will be on money. In fact, I'll have Ianto take you shopping. You can pick up some local clothing."

The two elves looked at each other. Zevran quirked a sympathetic brow, and Bannon sighed. He muttered something disparaging, but the blond only laughed and said, "It is always the way, no?" He shot a grin at Jack.

"So, you're in?" he asked tentatively, not sure he should push it.

"Yeah, we're in," Bannon agreed sourly. "For now."

"Excellent." Jack got to his feet. "Gentlemen, if you'll come with me."

===#===

He led them back across the Plass to the water sculpture. "Stand on this block," he said as he took position on the invisible lift.

Zevran came and stood close by his right elbow, but Bannon frowned and hesitated. "Why?"

"This is the magic entrance to the Hub." He flipped open his wrist strap as Bannon moved closer. "And keep your hands out of my pockets."

Bannon snorted derisively. "Trust me, there's nothing in your pockets I would find remotely interesting."

Zevran sniggered, and Jack glanced at the persistently over-friendly elf. Hadn't he said they were both bisexual?

Jack shook his head and started punching in the code to drop the lift. "Hang on." He noticed Bannon looking at the controls on the wrist strap. It wasn't as if a medieval elf could figure out the controls, but a clever elf might be able to memorize a sequence of keypresses. Jack obfuscated them with extra movements of his fingers. Let them try to memorize that arcane magical gesture.

The lift ran smoothly, but started with a bit of a bump. Jack was braced and ready. The elves kept their balance quite easily. The captain considered developing some tests of their abilities. Owen and Ianto could probably come up with something that would give them an idea how clever these two really were.

Some detailed reports from his team members, their impression of the elves, would be helpful as well. More paperwork, but this could be interesting reading.

He also studied the elves' reactions as the lift descended. They looked around with avid curiosity, and a keen analytical eye. Bannon looked up and watched the hatch close, probably trying to work out how that functioned.

They got to the bottom, and Jack ushered them up the spiral stairs towards his office door. He paused to ask his team, "Where have those two been staying?"

Owen said, "Well, we tried dressing up one of the cells as a hotel room, but that didn't seem to work." No matter how bad the medic's mood might be, it was just impossible to keep the snark down.

"They've been camping out mostly in the lounge," Ianto answered more seriously. "Also, the conference room."

"We'll need to get them some permanent quarters." Jack was about to suggest Ianto move out of the tiny flat over the tourist shop, but the Welshman beat him to the punch.

"I've divided off part of my place into a bedsit. They can stay there."

Jack blinked. He already had a solution? "What are you, Radar?"

Ianto shrugged. It was unclear if he got the reference. "After the Sky Gypsy incident, I thought it best to be prepared."

"All right, good. I'll need you to take them shopping in a bit, help acclimate them. Especially get them out of that leather." Not that Jack didn't like leather. Or getting elves out of it. "Owen, once they get settled, they'll need full medicals."

He didn't wait for their acknowledgements; he trotted up the stairs behind the elves. They went into his cluttered office, and of all the strange and marvelous things therein, they homed in on the candy dish.

Zevran darted over, grabbed one of the colorful treats and lobbed it up in the air. He tipped his head back to catch it in his mouth. Bannon's hand shot out, snatched it, and popped it into his own mouth.

"Hey!" the blond complained. "I wasn't done testing that for poison!"

"Yeah you were, that's why you were putting it in your mouth."

"No, putting it in my mouth is how I was going to test it!"

"Guys," Jack interrupted the argument loudly. "Why would I keep poisoned candy on my desk?"

They looked at him a moment, blinked, then turned and raided the candy dish, hand over fist.

Jack rolled his eyed with a silent sigh as he closed the door. He hung up his coat and walked around the desk. He plucked the candy dish out of their reach, then bent and opened the bottom right drawer of his desk. He could see right away there was no room for the dish in there, so he expeditiously just dumped the candies in. He shoved the drawer closed, then thumped the empty dish back down in its spot. "Have a seat."

Zevran, his cheeks bulging like a chipmunk's, sank into one of the chairs. He chewed for a while. Bannon seemed to have been hoarding the candies in his hand and eating them at a more sedate speed. During the whole interview, he kept surreptitiously finding more candy in his pockets, while Zevran glared daggers at him.

Jack ignored them both a moment while he hunted in a filing cabinet for the Torchwood induction forms. "Tell me something," he said over his shoulder, once he was pretty sure Zevran could talk again, "What did you think of my team's performance while I was dead?"

There was a pause, as if they were weighing their words carefully.

"Well," Zevran said, his Latin accent identifying him, "I was not impressed."

"Toshiko kept working," Bannon said. "The two guys... they spent a lot of time cleaning up. Fixing stuff."

"Your woman, Gwen," Zevran continued. "She did nothing but... pine," he said with distaste.

"She was in mourning," Bannon said quietly to his partner.

Jack was a little torn between disappointment - his crack about Gwen staging a coup and taking command hadn't been a complete lie; he'd expected her to step up - and gratitude. The fact that she had been devastated by his death - his possibly permanent demise - touched him. Gwen was the heart of his team. Sometimes the heart was the strongest muscle in the body; sometimes it was amazingly fragile.

The ordeal with the Rift Storms and Abaddon had been above and beyond the ordinary, even for Torchwood. A little downtime afterwards could be expected.

He plucked two copies of form #1461217-62 out of the drawer and turned back to his desk. "Thank you, gentlemen. Now we can get on with your induction."

"Are we going to have to drink any disgusting concoctions?" Zevran asked warily. "Endure rigorous initiation torture?"

"We are not doing any Blood Magic rituals," Bannon asserted.

All right, Jack made note not to mention the blood tests. "No, no," he assured them. "Nothing so 'medieval.' We just have to do paperwork." He slapped the stack of papers onto the desk.

The elves stared at them blankly, then with increasingly puzzled looks as they tried to fathom the meaning of that phrase. Finally, "What's paperwork?" Bannon asked.

"The bane of modern existence." Jack sat down and put the two forms side by side. He dug around a moment and found his pen, clicked it. "So, name: Last, first, and middle initial."

They looked at each other a moment, then shrugged.

"Arainai, Zevran."

"Tabris, Bannon."

"Any known medical conditions, diseases, physical handicaps, allergies, or debilitating phobias?"

Silence. Jack looked up. The elves shrugged and shook their heads. "Afraid of heights?" he prodded. "Afraid of water? Small, enclosed spaces? Being underground?" Still more head shaking. Jack repressed another sigh. "Look, this is for your own safety as well as everybody else's. If we run into a situation that might cause you to freeze up, it's better if we know about it beforehand. It's best," he emphasized, "if we know not to put you into that kind of situation at all."

"Bannon doesn't like dogs," Zevran offered.

"I am not afraid of dogs!"

"I did not say you were afraid of dogs. I said, you do not like dogs."

Jack started to write that in on the form.

"What are you writing?" Bannon demanded.

Jack looked at him. "What would you do if a big dog attacked you?"

"Kill it."

"All right. And if a big, goofy dog ran up on you and tried to lick your face?"

The elf gave him a flat look, which Jack interpreted as the same answer. "Doesn't like dogs," he intoned as he pretended to write that down. He glanced up expectantly, waiting for Bannon to return the blond elf's favor.

Bannon, however, only looked peeved and remained silent.

"Zevran?" Jack prompted.

"Hm?"

"Everyone's afraid of something."

The elf gave him a cool look with those amber eyes. "I assure you, I have not yet encountered anything that has managed to frighten me. When I do, I will let you know."

"What are you afraid of?" Bannon shot at Jack.

Damn, the elf had him over a barrel, there. "Nothing that interferes with my job," he insisted, only that wasn't quite true. Being lonely wouldn't keep him from throwing himself at a rampaging weevil, but he hated sending people to their deaths. In this job? They faced the danger of annihilation far too often.

"Suffocation, mostly," he hedged to the elves. "If I get stuck without air and revive... well, that's entirely unpleasant." Although nowadays, his team would know to retrieve his body from such situations. He hadn't realized the revelation of his secret could bring him comfort.

"How do you do that?" Zevran asked.

"Dunno," he answered truthfully.

Bannon didn't buy it. "Are you a Blood Mage?"

"No. I don't even know what that is."

"Were you cursed?" Zevran asked suddenly.

Jack quirked a brow. He hadn't considered that. "Maybe. I don't know." They still looked as if they thought he was hoarding the secret to himself, so he said, "Look, I died. Then I woke up. I don't know what the hell happened while I was dead, but I've been this way ever since."

The elves appeared mollified with this explanation. Meanwhile, Jack had to try one more time. "Zevran, you can't think of any situation you don't want me to order you into?"

He snorted. "I am an Antivan Crow."

"I don't know what that means."

Zevran deflated, his ego punctured. "I am one of the most feared assassins in Thedas. We never fail to complete a contract."

Bannon seemed to choke a little bit.

"I never-"

Bannon was definitely choking now.

"Fine."

Jack rubbed his forehead. "There's a burning building. I order you to charge in there. You're all right with that?"

"Si."

"Man, I hate being set on fire," Bannon said, in the droll tone that indicated he had, indeed, gone through exactly that.

"Oh, is not as bad as being frozen," Zevran scoffed.

"Are you kidding? At least ice doesn't damage your armor."

"Or your hair." Zevran went into a snickering fit. Bannon smacked him, ineffectively. He shut Zevran up though when he 'found' another piece of candy in his pocket and ate it.

All right, badass tough elves. A few missions with Torchwood would shake them down soon enough. Jack skimmed through the rest of the form; most of it was not applicable anyway. Country of origin, citizenship, vaccinations, next of kin. Languages - no help because none were from Earth. Or any major galactic civilization, for that matter.

Jack considered chucking the whole thing. He'd already decided to hire these two under the table. They weren't citizens of this planet, so there was no reason for the Defense Ministry or the Crown to even know about them. He didn't expect any trouble from the British government, but... that's when trouble tended to bite you in the ass, wasn't it?

If he didn't at least keep local paper records, Ianto would have a two-headed calf, so he muddled through. Afterwards, he let the elves take a break while he worked with Ianto. They'd have to fudge some numbers to cover the elves' expenses. Right now, they didn't have any. Their room and board were folded into the expense of running the Hub. Their medical needs would be taken care of in-house. Jack had Ianto set up trust funds for them, for the eventuality of their integration into society. If they lived that long.

The requisitions for repairs after the Rift Storm incident would hide a lot of extra money. Ianto suggested citing the re-outfit of the Torchwood ice cream truck.

"Ice cream truck?"

"A second official vehicle would be useful," Ianto replied, deadpan. "Perhaps call it a portable refrigeration unit."

He was so clever, Jack put him in charge of all the repair requisition forms.

"Is there any particular reason for not making the elves official Torchwood operatives?" Ianto asked mildly.

"No, not in particular." Jack stretched to ease his arms and back. "Let's just say I don't like having all of my eggs in one basket."

Ianto nodded. Nothing more needed to be said. For now, the office manager had a field mission to the mall. He went to gather his trainees.

===#===

Gwen poked her head in the door. "Jack? Can I have a private word?"

"Sure." He was bent double in his chair, trying to pick pieces of candy out of his bottom drawer. They'd probably melt or something in there, and if Ianto found a mess like that, Jack would have to endure one of his disapproving looks. Some bad coffee. Maybe Ianto would even cut him off.

Gwen closed the door and moved to the front of the desk, wringing her hands nervously. "I didn't want to mention this, because I don't know what it means... And I'm afraid it means something bad." She paced back and forth while he sat up to look at her with concern. "It's just that, keeping secrets from you, that's how we landed in that last mess."

This was sounding worse by the minute. Jack dumped the candies he'd rescued back into their dish, and shoved the drawer shut with his foot. "Go on."

"I don't think Bilis is dead."

"Because...?"

She faced him. "Rhys is back."

"That's..." His mind darted through so many possibilities, branching out to so many outcomes. "That's impossible."

She held up a hand, and he let her explain. "After I left the flat, when we found Rhys gone..." When she'd practically decked him, and not for the last time. "I went back to the clock shop. I met Bilis there. He told me that if I helped open the Rift, that Rhys would return."

"He was lying, Gwen. He was only manipulating all of you, to trick you into releasing Abaddon."

"I know. But what he actually said was, 'I promise the one you love will be returned to you.' And then, after everything was over, I got a text. I can't find it in my message history now, but I saw it plain as day. 'I always keep my promises,' it said. Signed 'B.'" She took a breath. "A moment later, Rhys called me. He was home, with no idea that anything had happened to him at all."

"He was gone," Jack said, softly but firmly. "Whatever came back..."

"Look, I know what you're going to say! It's not him. It's some kind of alien, a doppleganger, or he's possessed by some demon, or he's a robot, or an hallucination or... or... whatever." She leaned towards him over the desk, her eyes fixed on him. "Believe me, I have thought all this already. And I've looked! I've searched for any sign he's not himself." She straightened. "And there are none! It's him, Jack. I can swear to it."

He rubbed his face. "You're not exactly the most unbiased observer."

"Do you think I want to be duped?"

"No. But- All right, look. We'll bring Rhys in. We'll run a battery of tests. If," he stressed, "he passes, we'll give him some retcon, bundle him up, and send him home, none the worse for wear."

She frowned, no doubt thinking of the alternative outcome.

"You have to prepare yourself," he told her. "If anything is off, we can't take any chances."

"It's not Rhys I'm worried about," she said, though clearly that wasn't exactly true. "What if Bilis comes back? What if he thinks I still owe him something? Or worse, if he threatens Rhys again?"

There was some advantage to having no emotional ties, Jack mused. They could be just one huge weakness. But he had to admit, Bilis had gotten to them all somehow, anyway. Aloud, he said, "We'll deal with Bilis when and if he ever shows up again. Frankly, if the only reason for his existence was to free Abaddon, well... his job is done."

"What about revenge?"

"That could be tricky." Jack shrugged again. "But like I say, he shows his turnip head around here again, we'll deal with him." He stood up. "As a team." He emphasized this with a strong look.

A bit of tension went out of Gwen at his assertion. "Right. As a team." She tipped her head. "Bilis did get to every one of us, Jack. But not you. Isn't there... I don't know, someone, something that would have influenced you?"

He thought about it a long moment. He knew the Rift was dangerous; he believed opening it was a greater threat than anything that might come out of it. Would anything change his mind? "Maybe... the right kind of Doctor." His eyes unfocused as he thought of the past and what might be the future. Where are you?

===X===

End Notes:

"What are you, Radar?"

-Radar, from M*A*S*H. You know, the guy who always knew what people were going to ask for before they asked for it? That's why they called him 'Radar.'

Outtake: The Interview

Jack: Name: last, first, middle initial?
Zevran: Arainai, Zevran.
Bannon: Tabris, Bannon.
Jack: In one word, describe yourself.
Zevran: Awesome!
Bannon: Smart.
Jack: Describe your dream man/woman.
Zevran: Well-
Bannon: ::smacks him to shut him up:: Wait a minute! ::stands up and shakes fist at the ceiling:: Bloodsong! I told you, I wasn't doing any more of these stupid interview questionaires unless the interviewer was good-looking and sexy!
Jack: Hey, I'm good-looking and sexy!
Zevran: I agree. ::making eyes at Jack::
Bannon: ::smacks Zevran again:: You are not; you're a big fat shem!
Jack: I am not fat!
Bannon: Well, you're a big huge shem!
Jack: Hmm... 'Huge.' Now there's an adjective I can live with. ::grins!::
Zevran: ::drools::
Bannon: Okay, you two finish this scene, I'm calling my agent...!