It has been quite some time since Mairenn's last visit to the mansion, two weeks at least, and Fenris found himself practically climbing the walls in anticipation. She hadn't said when she was coming, or if she even was at all, but after so long he knew she would soon.

He kept glancing out one of the windows on the second floor, hoping to catch that familiar head of raven hair bobbing toward his door, but it didn't. Eventually he forced himself from the window in defeat and uncorked a fresh bottle of wine. As usual, he didn't bother with a glass and drank straight from the bottle sinking uncomfortably into his chair. His legs felt restless. They wanted him pacing about the room expectantly, wanted to carry him to the window once more just in case Mairenn had decided to come.

In the empty and still air of the mansion, the creaking sound of the front door opening carried to his ears, followed by a small voice quietly calling his name. He should have listened to his legs. He called out to her, trying to hide the happiness in his voice, but there was no point. As soon as she set foot in his bedroom, his face blossomed into a huge grin.

With her hands on her swaying hips, she strutted toward him and snatched up his bottle, drinking deeply. He watched as she drank, the droplet that escaped her lips and settled on her chin, wishing he could gently wipe it away with his thumb. She exhaled heavily in satisfaction and wiped her face inelegantly on her sleeve. Not that he minded, quite the opposite actually. He rather enjoyed seeing someone without the refined social behaviors of the stuck up nobility.

Mairenn threw herself into the armchair opposite of him and smiled goofily at him. "I have something for you."

He smirked. "And what might that be?"

Digging deep in her canvas backpack, she turned out a bloated leather pouch that she tossed to him. It was heavy and made the soft clinking noise of coins when he caught it. "That is fifty sovereigns," she explained. "Your cut of the expedition."

"I don't understand," he said quietly. "I wasn't even there. Why do you give me this?"

She shrugged. "You helped me get there, and I... Well, you are a treasured friend, and I take care of my friends."

"Did anyone else receive a reward?"

"Of course," she answered. But then she leaned forward and playfully whispered, "I gave you a little extra though. Don't tell."

He smiled appreciatively, but what he really wanted was to kiss those perfect pink lips of hers, to hug her, hold her hand, something other than just sit there.

"You are an oyster," Fenris said with a quiet chuckle, to which Mairenn wrinkled her face in confusion. Was he comparing her to a slimy mollusk? He cleared in throat and began to clarify. "You can look at a problem, no matter what it is - be it darkspawn, Qunari, or even the Templars and Chantry- and say, 'I can fix this.' Like the oyster takes an invading grain of sand and turns it into a beautiful pearl, you do the same with the life you are given." His words were soft spoken, much different from the gruff and demanding voice he so often used. And while he spoke his fingers inched ever closer to her hand until they finally touched. "I admire that about you, Mairenn."

She turned her hand over so his fingertips massaged her palm and smiled sweetly, but it slowly grew into a sly grin. "I thought you hated seafood, Fenris," Mairenn said cheekily.

Fenris groaned slightly, withdrawing his hand and looked away. "You are also very dodgy..." She always deflected any sort of compliment with sarcasm. It was probably because she never felt the same about herself as others did, always thinking she was doing something wrong.

"You love it," she boasted confidently, resting her arms behind her head.

"Maybe I do," he mumbled, the rarely cheerful look in his eyes dampening as he turned away.

Mairenn frowned. She might have had feelings for him once, but he had shunned her. Now that he openly returned those feelings, he was the one left empty. But they were still friends, maybe even better than that, but still less than he wanted.

What bothered him most, though, was the love she bore for that abomination, Anders. He shuttered to even think of him. She truly must be a saint to look past such darkness and find love. A stupid, stupid saint.

It was no matter now, however, and he would take whatever time he was granted with her, with or without that demon. He shrugged off his comment and took a deep swig from the wine. Maybe if he filled his mouth with wine, his foolish words wouldn't fill it instead.