Awareness came back to Zevran slowly, which could only mean he had been knocked unconscious. His suspicions were proven when he groaned and tried to push himself up, only for the distinct feeling of a booted foot to press itself to his shoulder, keeping his back to the ground. He blinked up at the face above him, bringing into focus the thick black hair, brown skin, and decidedly pointed ears. "Nngh, er, what? Oh… oh. I rather thought I would wake up dead. Or not wake up at all, as the case may be," he said, and had to suppress a grin when brows lowered over black eyes.

The woman's hand gripped the collar of his armor and pulled him up, and he raised his hands in mock defense. "You're going to be more annoying than I expected, aren't you?"

"And you're rather an aggressive little minx, aren't you?" Zevran countered, then he decided he might as well get out of this encounter alive. "Lovely, too."

Nakota's first thought as soon as the assassin spoke to her was I'm going to kill him anyway. Then she remembered the answers she had yet to receive, and so she ground her teeth and glanced back at Alistair, who nodded at her.

But the assassin could read the situation clearly. "If there is to be an interrogation, let me save you the trouble. My name is Zevran. I am a member of the Antivan Crows, an order of assassins. I was contracted to hunt and kill and surviving Grey Wardens in Ferelden - which I have failed at, sadly."

Nakota pursed her lips. "I'm rather happy you failed," she told him, rather unnecessarily.

"I would be as well, in your shoes. For me, however, it sets a rather poor precedent, doesn't it?"

Nakota snorted and rolled her eyes, and glanced back at Leliana when she said, "Someone went to great expense to hire this man."

Before she could respond, the assassin - Zevran - was speaking. Again. "It's true. I suppose you don't hear much of the Crows here. Where I come from, we're rather infamous."

"Not for being good assassins, apparently." The words were deadpan, and left Nakota before she could filter herself.

"Oh, I see. Is this what you Fereldans do? Mock your prisoners? Such cruelty." Nakota didn't want to admit she could almost enjoy the sound of the small, derisive laugh that he let out.

"Only when they make it easy," she retorted, and then cleared her throat, stopping herself before she could slip into banter with her would-be assassin. "Who hired you?"

"Hmm. A rather taciturn fellow in the capital. Loghain, I believe?"

Zevran had just gotten used to being held by the front of his armor when he was dropped. He nearly cracked his head on the ground, but stopped himself just in time to look up to see the female Warden had stood, and was positively fuming. "Ah, I see the name is familiar."

"Are you loyal to him?" The question was sharp, the tone dark. Zevran very much wanted to backtrack to the light almost-teasing he had reached just moments before.

"Look, I have no idea what his issues are with you. The usual, I imagine - you threaten his power, and he wants you dead, yes?"

The woman was sneering at him, and had crossed her arms, a mirror image to the tall blond next to her. "That's the understatement of the century."

"Right, well," Zevran said, sitting up slowly, not liking the way the black-haired mage woman was smirking at him, "beyond that, I have no loyalty to him. I was hired to perform a service."

"And now that you've failed that service?" The question came from the blond, the aggressive Fereldan accent entirely what Zevran had expected.

"Well, that is between Loghain and the Crows. And the Crows and myself," he supplied.

"And between you and me?" It was back to the woman. If he had to guess, Zevran would say she was the leader.

"Isn't that what we're establishing now?" he asked rhetorically, dropping the tone of his voice just so he could see how she would react. There it was - her lips twitched ever so slightly, and her weight shifted. He continued while he had at least a little advantage. "Loyalty is an interesting concept - one I'd like to discuss, provided you're done with the questions?"

Nakota looked at Alistair, who shrugged a bit helplessly. With a sigh, she crouched in front of the assassin again. "I'm listening. For now."

A wide grin spread across his face. "Here's how it is: I failed to kill you, so my life is forfeit, at least to the Crows. Unfortunately for them, I rather prefer living. And you are obviously the sort of person to give the Crows pause - so let me serve you, instead."

It was so abrupt, so surprising, that all Nakota could muster was, "You must think I'm royally stupid."

Zevran raised an eyebrow at her. "I think you are royally hard to kill. And, well, utterly breathtaking. Not that I think you'll respond to simple flattery - but there are worse things in life than following the whims of a deadly sex goddess." The smirk on his face was devilish.

That was what grounded her. She'd never been called a deadly sex goddess before - in the alienage, that wasn't something you said to people, let alone someone you just met. Her face felt warm and she could feel the scowl claiming her expression. "What's to stop you from finishing the job later?"

"The Crows aren't very forgiving. They might just kill me on principle for failing the first time. To be quite honest, I'd rather take my chances with you. Plus, I happen to know their wily ways. I come with you, I can protect myself from them, as well as you. Not that you seem to need much help."

Another surprise. Nakota tilted her head as she considered. She was deemed stronger than these Crows, yet this assassin preferred his chances with her company than theirs. "Why would I want you to come with us?"

"Why? Well, because I am skilled at many things, from fighting, to stealth and picking locks." Nakota wasn't too sure about the first or the third, but he certainly was good at stealth. She remembered how he'd disappeared in front of her. "I could also stand around and look pretty, if you prefer. Warm your bed. Fend off unwanted suitors."

Suddenly, Alistair laid a hand on her shoulder. She turned to him, and the urgency on his face was nearly staggering, and enough to distract her from the literal proposition she'd just been presented with. "Are you seriously considering this?" Before she could answer, he said, "Nakota, no. He tried to kill us!"

"And he failed, Alistair."

"That doesn't - so?! He could still kill us! I rather don't like the idea of waking up with a blade in my back!"

"Give me your sword." Alistair looked at Nakota like she'd grown a second head.

"What?"

"Alistair, give me your sword." And because he had no reason to mistrust her, he did.

And, without turning to look at him, Nakota held the blade out, hilt-first, toward Zevran, who was still unbound on the ground. He didn't take it.

After about ten seconds, Nakota handed the blade back to a dumbstruck Alistair, then shot a cheerful smile to an equally befuddled Zevran.

"You can come."