"Moira," said Cullen, "Why is that man staring at me?"
They were standing at the bar in the Hanged Man, a little hole-in-the-wall tavern that Moira had convinced him to come to. They were supposedly going to meet two others here. Already, though, Cullen was beginning to feel that coming here had been a huge mistake.
"Probably fancies you," said the bartender.
"What?" He blinked and looked at the man. "How dare—!"
"Leave off him, Corff," said Moira. "Come on." She hooked an arm around Cullen's, steering him towards a nearby table. "Let's have a seat and wait for the others. Try to relax," she added in a whisper.
"I can't relax," he said. "This place is revolting. I can't believe you and the others come here. Does the Knight-Commander know about this?"
"Maker's breath, it isn't a brothel. Here," She plunked his beer in front of him, "Drink and at least try to fit in."
Cullen frowned. "He's still staring."
"Who?" She turned her head, looking over her shoulder and finally spotting the brown-haired man sitting across the tavern. The man was indeed leveling a glare their way so intense it could rival any mage's spell.
She turned back around. "It's nobody, I'm sure. Now just drink…"
"Sweet blood of Andraste! He's coming over."
He didn't have time to enjoy the shocked look his sudden curse brought to Moira's face; he was too busy wondering wildly what he should do as the tall, burly, brown-haired fellow stood up and began walking decidedly towards their table.
Without knowing why, he felt himself standing up as well.
Moira hissed at him. "What are you doing? You're the bloody knight-captain!"
"I can't very well just sit here like an arse, either, can I?" he hissed back.
He straightened as the man approached. "Do you have some business with the templars, stranger?"
"With the templars?" said the man. "No. With you? Yes."
Moira stood up. "Now just you wait. This is the knight-captain you're speaking to—!"
Cullen held a hand up, cutting her off. He nodded at the man.
"I know of no disagreement between us. Have I offended you in any way?"
The man's expression darkened. Cullen began to really wonder if he was going to have to defend himself; his vision suddenly swam with images of himself and Moira engaged in a barroom brawl, later having to slink into the knight-commander's office and explain what it was they were even doing here in the first place. He took a deep breath.
"Donnic!"
The man's eyes widened, his stormy visage momentarily clearing, replaced by … fear?
Cullen looked past him, towards the woman who was approaching them now, her familiar features pinched in irritation.
Beside him, Moira started.
"Guard-Captain!" she said.
Aveline nodded at her before rounding on her husband. "What do you think you're doing? I told you there was nothing to those ridiculous stories of Varric's!"
Donnic—yes, he recognized the man now—looked mildly flustered now, if a man of his size and disposition could really look flustered.
"I'm handling things," he said. "If there's any truth to those distasteful rumors…"
"There isn't!" she said. "I already told you there wasn't. And why in Andraste's name are you interrogating the knight-captain about it? Do you want to lose your post over this?"
"Excuse me," said Cullen, "I don't mean to pry into … but…" He frowned. "What stories?"
Moira sat down. "Oh, balls," she muttered.
Aveline glanced at her, then back at Cullen.
She smiled. It was unnerving.
"Nothing that would interest you, Ser Cullen. Just… the sort of vile wonderings of a mad man. And every sentence of it FALSE."
At the last, she gave her husband a look. Donnic responded accordingly, his eyes dropping, shoulders drooping a little.
"I'm sorry, Love," he said. "It's just that it's been stewing inside me… And when I saw him, here, of all place! Perhaps knowing that you were coming to meet me…"
Cullen blinked. "Are you saying that I… That I, and the guard-captain…!"
Aveline sighed. "Now look what you've done. You've embarrassed the knight-captain. Congratulations, you fool."
"I'm not embarrassed," he protested indignantly. "I… just don't know what to say. Not that you aren't… ah…"
He trailed off, catching Donnic giving him that look again.
Aveline rolled her eyes. "Well! I think we'll just be going now." She slipped an arm around her husband's. "Shall we?"
"Why don't you two stay and have a drink with us?" asked Moira.
"I think not," said Donnic.
Honestly, Cullen was getting a little tired of the man's glaring looks.
Aveline jerked his arm. "Come along, guardsman. Before you get us into anymore trouble."
Cullen watched the couple leave for a moment before finally sitting back down.
He picked up his beer but didn't immediately take a sip.
"I have no idea what just happened," he said after a moment.
"You wouldn't, would you? Look, there are Agatha and Ruvena." She raised her hand, waving towards the other two women.
Cullen lifted his beer and brought it to his lips. He watched Donnic and Aveline across the room, the big guardsman sulking slightly, staring down into his own beer while his wife laid into him.
"Poor sod," Cullen murmured. He made a face, setting his glass down.
Maker's breath, the beer here was terrible.