She was terrible at Wicked Grace. Varric knew it, and he chuckled from behind the splay of cards he held. She peered over the top of her own hand, trying to read the faces of the others at the table. Isabela was smirking, but that was the face she always made, good hand or bad. Anders was frowning, chewing on his bottem lip. A bad hand, then. Merrill looked like a kitten all wrapped up in a ball of yarn, elation pouring out of every direction.
Her golden eyes flicked towards the door, rather then let themselves land on the last person at the table. Avaline was suposed to be dropping by after her patrol. Hawke let herself worry about the woman who was more like a sister then a friend. It was easier then thinking about her terrible hand, or feeling his presence.
Him, Fenris. They had put Merrill between them, something they did often these days. Merrill, Varric, Avaline, Sebastian, always between them. Never Isabela or Anders though. Isabela was determined to get Fenris alone, and Anders was constantly clucking at how much better he would be for her. It wasn't that she didn't like Anders. He was handsome, and funny when he wasn't obsessing about the plight of the mages within the city. They had magic, and freedom, and they needed to make the world a better place for sane, strong willed, able minded mages.
She'd even met him first. The intrest had been genuin, and when Anders told her go away, the rebel in her made trying to get past his walls a game. She flirt with him, told him he was handsome, wore low cut robes bought especially to visit Anders at his clinic. Tight like a second skin, leaving little to the imagination. Isabela had picked it out. The game had been fun, thrilling. A distraction to the chaos that had built durring the mad dash to come up with the coin to convince Varric's brother to take them on as partners. Could she break the dangerous apostate?
It had been a game she played in Lothering, too. Could she flirt hard enough with the Templar recruits to get them to break their vows? Tease them just enough to watch them sweat? Carver had been horrified that it would lead to the whole order comming down on their heads. She wasn't a [i]bad[/i] girl, per say. She wasn't like Isabela, hadn't actually bedded anyone. It was a game, something to pass the time, to distract herself after her father died. Besides, it was [i]so[/i] much fun to watch a man squirm.
She had even toyed with the idea of actually letting Anders succeed in taking her. He really was a kindred soul, and dispite the game she played, she had a vested intrest in his goals for abolishing the circles. He was a good man, and fun as void to tease. It had abruptly ended the night she met Fenris.
Fenris. Dark, broody Fenris. Fenris with the eyes so filled with pain and hate and need. Fenris with the deep, quite voice that shook the very depths of her soul when he spoke. Fenris. It was almost a second hand thought that he was an elf, the first time they'd met. She had never payed much attention to elves before then. Merrill was an elf, but to Hawke Merrill was more like a kicked puppy looking for someone to rescue them. Adorable, sweet.
When he spoke about the slavers, hate burned in her veins so intensly it had scared her. He hadn't needed to pay her for her services. He could have asked her to throw herself off a cliff. That was the sheer imact of those eyes. She tore her way through the shades that had attacked them in that house. When he made comment about her being a mage, it tore through her like a jagged blade. The weakness there had startled her, and she did the only thing she could. She flirted. A defense mechnism. Be charming, bat your eyelashes. Her mother had taught her that no man would be willing to question a pretty face if it seemed helplessly innocent.
A flash of their night together snuck up on her. The feel of his hands, of his mouth on her soft flesh tore through her like a re-opened wound, startling her with its intensity. It made her tremble, andshe forced the thought away with every ouce of strength she had.
"Yoo-hoo, Hawke. Are you there?" Varric was snapping his fingers in her face. "If you're to tired to play, I can always take your bid for my own."
"What?" She looked up, the emotion sturred within her by the memory of him barely held in check.
"Ha, she returns! You drifted off on us there for a moment, Sweet-thing. Are you alright? You look like you're going to eat the table." Isabela's voice rang in her ears. Anders looked at her, his eyes full of concern.
She blushed, her eyes involentarily flicking towards Fenris, who looked to be trying to burn a hole through the table with his eyes alone. "I.. yes, I'm alright. I was just thinking. It's my bid?" She quickly tossed two gold coins on the growing pile, having no idea what was actually in her hand. Anything to change the subject.
Merrill squeaked and dropped her cards on the table, "That's it, I fold. I'll never be any good at this game."
Isabela chuckled, "Let me see what you have, kitten. Oh, look, see. You would have been fine. I'd guess it's better then what Anders is holding. Never reveal your hand, kitten. It's more fun to win when you've got the illusion of a good hand."
"Hey, I'll have you know I've got a very good hand."
"No you don't, blondie. You're taping your foot, which tells me you've got a terrible hand. But, I have a terrible hand too, and I don't have the coin to bluff my way out of a paper bag right now. I fold as well."
"I don't have a terrible hand," Anders protested, "Justice is just irritated that I'm playing cards and drinking."
Varric chuckled, "Sure blondie. And my father was a nug-wrangler."
Absently she tossed her cards face up on the table. Fenris chuckled, the depth of his quiet voice sending shivers down her spine. "Looks like I fold as well."
"Goodness Hawke. You're actually starting to get a hand at this game. Have you been paying for lessions?" Varric laughed, before taking a slug off of his mug.
"No, Isabela has been teaching me. I secretly think she's trying to get me in bed." Hawke said, the smirk creeping up on her. Isabela had asked, and as much fun as it had sounded, her heart was to raw with memories of Fenris and that night. She had sugested instead that the Pirate Queen teach her Wicked Grace, so they could clean Varric out one of these nights.
Varric's laughter nearly hid the force that Fenris applied to the table as he abruptly stood. Hawke's eyes flew up to meet the Elf's face. Something dark was swimming in the depths of those emerald eyes. "I think, it's time for me to be heading back home." He said after a moment.
"Well, alright elf. If that's what you want. Hawke, you should walk him home. You know how his swooning teenaged fanclub is when they carch him out alone. I've never seen so many noble girls mob an elf before, amusing as it is." Varric's knowing tone irritated the shit out of her. Nothing ever got past that dwarf.
"I'll be fine"
"No, he's right. I really should be heading home myself. Mother will worry. You know how very much she hates it when I walk around lowtown in the dark. It's never a good idea to be out alone." She said, standing up. She focused on taking the last few gupls of her wiskey.
"I can walk you home if you'd like Hawke. If Fenris is to tired, I mean. Your cellar leads right by my clinic anyway, so its not out of the way." Anders spoke, his voice vull of the true intent behind them.
"No." Fenris said quickly. "I'll walk her."
"It's alright, Anders. I'll come by tomarrow with those bandages I promised to bring. Can you make sure Merrill gets home safely?"
Anders sat down, frowning. "Alright. Be safe. Please."
Fenris gestured towards the door, the gentlemen that he was. She nodded towards her friends at the table, and walked out into the cool night air.
