"Andraste's dimpled butt cheeks, if it isn't my favourite Knight Captain!"

Maker no. Cullen flinched and hunched down into his pauldrons, as if he could hide within himself and she wouldn't notice him. But it was too late. He'd known this reunion was unavoidable as soon as the rumours that Hawke was in Skyhold had surfaced, and so he forced a strained smile as a surprisingly strong arm whacked him on the back.

"Don't worry, I'm here. Ready to save your grumpy self yet again." Straight to teasing, of course. Typical. He turned to face her with a sigh, receiving a wink in return. "Hawke to the rescue and all that."

Noticing they'd lost the commander's attention, the soldiers had slowly stopped practicing, swords held loosely in their hands as they turned to watch. Already he could hear whispers by the back. Unsure if that was really her, if this was the Champion from the stories. He wondered if Hawke could hear them too, if the rumours bothered her.

"Hawke, if I remember correctly you were always getting me into trouble." She hadn't changed much, at first glance. Still the same messy, dark hair, cut short with a knife. The same devilish grin that just screamed mischief. Red armour covered in mismatched buckles and spiked iron, yet unable to hide the cuts on one arm from her blood magic, a fact he tried to ignore.

Just like back in Kirkwall, Varric was stood loyally by her side, and the dwarf looked exceedingly happier than usual. But there was something else, a weariness in the back of her eyes, a small wobble in her smile. The jester act was not its usual 100% natural self, and there was just a small part of her that was trying. "And that is… no longer my title. It's just Commander now." He added, very regretful that she had decided to come visit him while he was with the new recruits. Knowing her, she'd probably planned it that way.

"Yes well, titles come and go. But luckily the snarky memories remain." She waved a hand dismissively. "I hear you're an advisor now. Dishing out advise, advising."

"Err… Yes, I do do that." He said uncertainly, feeling very much like she was leading him into a trap. It was like being back in the gallows, struggling to control Hawke and her antics. Worrying that the young woman would turn him prematurely grey while he tried to explain that 'no Hawke, he wasn't going to accept any bribes, and would she stop bringing her aposte friends to the gallows?!' It had been exhausting. She was exhausting.

"Just imagine," Hawke purred, pulling him from his unhappy memories, "if you lot had managed to find me, you'd be my advisor right now." She laughed, as if the very idea was hilarious, wounding his pride and ruffling his feathers. "Telling me which belt suits my eyes, making sure I don't wear white socks with black shoes, that sort of lark."

"That's not the kind of advice I – is there something you need?" He said with a clear of his throat, wanting to be rid of her quickly before she embarrassed him in front of the recruits. Already he could hear a few snickers.

This, however, had clearly been the wrong question to ask, as Hawke got an evil glint in her eyes that made his spine shudder – and not in the good way.

"Well, now that you mention it – "

Oh no.

"Varric's introducing me to his new friends. We're all going to play Wicked Grace, and I would be simply heartbroken if you did not join us."

That was it? He frowned down at her oddly, wondering if the little woman had lost her knack for trouble.

"Urm, I'm actually very busy, Hawke."

"Don't be silly, Commander. I'm only here for the day, and our dear Inquisitor said you'd be happy to join."

"Gwen?"

"Will be playing with us, of course." Her smile turned all the cheekier, and he wondered how much gossip she'd been getting from Varric. A lot, if the way he avoided eye contact was anything to go by.

"I suppose I could join later, for a little while," he gave in, clearing his throat and rubbing his neck. If Gwen was there, surely it wouldn't be too terrible?

"Great!" Hawke whacked him on the arm again, almost making him stumble. "Knew you would. We'll see you later, Curly." She sauntered off before he could protest the dreaded nickname, Varric following quickly.

"How much are you ganna tease Curly, Hawke?" Varric asked as they made their way into the tavern. It was packed full with off-duty guards, Cullen's men, he thought with a faint hint of amusement. But at least it was warm, and had cheap alcohol – which he, guiltily, had to admit was much sweeter than anything The Hanged Man had ever produce. And if Hawke could ignore the jaw slack stares, then so could he.

"Tease? Varric, I never tease. I'm simply being friendly." She scoffed and kicked out a chair near the back of the room, collapsing into it and immediately putting her feet onto the table.

"Your friendly has a way of making his ears burn."

"I know, isn't it funny?"

"Damn hilarious." Varric conceded, deciding there was no reining Hawke in even if he'd wanted to.

They ordered drinks and settled down in the corner, fully prepared to linger in the tavern all afternoon if it meant they wouldn't be bothered. Hawke had met the Inquisitor, given her all the useful information she possessed, made plans for her leave tomorrow morning, and was now ready to catch up with her favourite dwarf.

"Whats the food like here? I'm still not over Sandal's enchantment soup. Blurgh. Thumb in the bowl, every time."

He grunted and looked over her shoulder; what Varric saw there made his spine stiffen.

By the door was Cassandra. Looking angry and nervous and absolutely terrifying all at once.

"Shit."

"Varric? The soup? Hey. What just crawled up your ass?" Hawke said, giving him an odd look, oblivious to Cassandra slowly wandering to their table. Surely she wouldn't try to kill him in front of Hawke? Even if she did, his best friend would protect him, right?

Or point and laugh. Hard to say.

"Ahem. E-Excuse me." Hawke turned to stare up at Cassandra, who was a deep shade of crimson as soon as she'd caught the trouble maker's attention.

Now this he hadn't expected.

"My name is Cassandra Pentaghast and I read – I mean, I heard, I- "

"The seeker here," Varric said, smooth as butter and thoroughly enjoying himself, "is your biggest fan, Hawke."

This brushed her ego to no end, just like he'd known it would, and Hawke looked to Cassandra with new found interest; grinning from ear to ear. "You don't say? I've never had a fan before. Usually people are trying to kill me."

"I would never! I mean to say – I'm not a fan. Well, I am, but I… I just respect –" she was acting worse than he'd expected, and Varric tried to forget how she'd put a knife through his book as he rescued Cassandra from further embarrassment.

"Why don't you join us, Seeker? I was just about to tell Hawke about that dragon you killed last week." He purred, smirking. She owed him for this.

"Oh! The Inquisitor did most of the work. I just – I – I would love to." She sat down next to him, looking thoroughly uncomfortable yet somehow still happy to be part of the little group.

"So Cassandra," Hawke leaned forward, looking grave, "hows the food here?"