All characters belong to Bioware.

Cole fidgeted with the hem of his sleeve as he abandoned his assigned duty of "look out person" to plea once more with his more experienced conspirator. "We should stop this. They'll be angry. So many angry. We need to go back. Fix it."

"Calm down, kid" Varric said, still ignoring Cole's hysterics. "I promise this will make people happy in the end. It's a good thing."

"No. No. No. No. No. Josephine will not be happy. She'll itch and remember the time she fell in the bundle of rashvine in the market and everyone laughed at her and it will be our fault. I'll have made her uncomfortable."

Cole's voice was so plaintive, Varric paused his search for a perfect hiding space for the rashvine extract among the obscene number of pillows in Sera's room to reassure him. "Look, sometimes in order to make a lot of people happy, someone else has to be uncomfortable. We'll do something nice for Ruffles later to make up for it."

"But I don't know how to fix dolls."

Varric blinked. Following Cole's thought process wasn't always easy, but that was out of even Varric's ability to figure out. "Why do you need to fix dolls?"

Cole shifted back and forth like a trapped nug pacing its cage. "Josephine dropped one of her dolls and its face cracked and she was sad. Its name was Louise. She'd had it for a very long time. I wanted to make her feel better, but I don't know how to fix dolls."

Sometimes Varric loved the way Cole's mind worked, even if it sometimes tried to delve into stories that didn't need to be told. How many other people would be so worried about little problems like that? If everything that came out of the Fade was like him, Varric might understand Solas's fascination with it.

"I can help you find someone who can fix dolls, so stop worrying."

Cole was quiet for a moment, his head turned slightly as if he were listening to something in the distance. "But now someone else is going to be unhappy."

"What're you doing in my room?" a shrill voice screamed from the hallway. "I told you to stay out. I don't want you being creepy with my things again. I had to get a new bow because of your creepin about trees and girls and whatever."

Varric hastily tucked the bottle of rashvine extract between two pillows, out of sight but not completely. Then, before Sera could get Cole anymore twitchy or Cole revealed all their plans in an attempt to make her more comfortable, Varric stepped forward. "Calm down, Buttercup. He's just tagging along with me."

Sera edged into the room around Cole, as if a single hair touching his hat would contaminate her with the Fade. "And what do you friggin want?"

"My latest chapter of Swords and Shields went missing, and I know how sticky your fingers are," he lied naturally.

"Pfft. Like I care about your smutty smut. If I wanted to get off I'd find me something better than a book and my hand. Betchya Cassandra's got it. Lying in bed all hot and bothered." Sera paused, her eyes unfocused and a little smirk curling onto her lips. "Touching . . . things. Okay, get out!"

Without even a worry about touching Cole, Sera shoved them both out of the room and slammed the door. A nervous giggle sounded from inside. "Touching."

Cole stared at the door, brow furrow deep on his face. "She was angry I was there, but then you made her forget about me and she was happy again. I can't make the story in her mind real, though. Cassandra doesn't think like that about women."

Other times Varric was reminded just the kinds of things Cole could see when he peeked into their minds. Varric needed to have a talk with him about appropriate comments someday, and maybe what those thoughts meant. The more human the kid got, the greater the chance someone might start thinking them about him.

"Everyone has fantasies; you don't need to make it real. Now, come on. We need to find a good place to wait."

"Wait for what?"

Varric sat down across from the stairs so the cracked wooden door to Sera's room was in clear view. There was nothing like a good show, especially when the players were already known. "You'll know when it happens."

The atmosphere of the tavern was that of a slow moving wave. Most of the time the surface was placid, never showing the energy pushing from beneath, but the closer to the shore it came, the louder it got. Laughter. Singing. Cheers for surviving a battle hard won. The wave was not yet ready to break that day when it suddenly crashed into everyone enjoying the lazy afternoon at the sound of the front door slamming into the stone wall.

Josephine stood in the doorway with strands of her normally collected hair now floating tendrils around her face. What showed of her neck was reddened, and though she tried to remain an imposing figure, she quickly began scratching at her wrists. "Sera!"

The door to Sera's room opened and the bleary-eyes elf stumbled out to the railing. "What?" she slurred, still groggy from an afternoon nap.

"I know it was you, Sera. You're not getting away with it this time!" In a rare show of undignified behavior, Josephine tromped up the stairs with all the terror Bull could inspire charging across the battlefield.

"Shite!" Whatever drowsiness was left in Sera vanished, and she bolted for her room.

"You're not getting away this time!" Josephine chased her target only to release a frustrated sound somewhere between a huff and an unspoken expletive. A moment later Josephine emerged again, elf-free, but with a small bottle of rashvine extract in her hand. As if registering an audience for the first time, she smoothed her hair back and smiled. "Forgive my display. It seems I have matters to attend to."

As she headed back down the tavern stairs, Varric heard quiet murmurings about visiting Leliana and the same malicious chuckle she had right before she won Cullen's smallclothes from him. No one said a word until the tavern door closed behind her, then a wave of laughter and chatter echoed across the room.

"I don't understand," Cole said still watching the door. "I thought we'd make her sad, but she was excited. Uncomfortable but eager."

Varric laughed. "When it doesn't hurt anyone, planning a bit of revenge can be fun."

"So, she's happy we did it?"

"Not exactly, but she'll enjoy planning how to get Sera back."

A lithe elven body jumped down from the staircase next to them and stared at them with a twisted up expression that said something had gone rotten in the room. "Wait a minute, you framed me?"

"Well, the kid came up with the prank, but who's going to believe he did it. I figured we might as well give credit to the muse."

Sera hopped up to sit on an empty table next to them. "Mus . . . what? If you want singing, go talk to Maryden."

"I meant the one who inspired him. Who else could do that?"

Her face scrunched up and she eyed them both—Cole twice over. "Well, guess it depends on what prank he did. I have a reputation to maintain. Can't have shoddy pranks going on in my name."

"Rashvine in her perfume," Cole answered eagerly, no doubt feeding off whatever approval Sera offered.

"Not bad for the kid's first try," Varric added.

"Rashvine? In her perfume?" Sera burst out laughing, nearly falling back onto the table in the process. "That's a classic. I haven't done something like that since I was a brat. No wonder she was scratching all over."

Cole watched her. "Quick and quiet to the desk. Bitter raisins the proof of the lie. Now the lady will know, too. Rashvine will be her proof."

"Shite!" Sera snapped, jumping off the table. "You had to ruin it. You might not be all wrong, but you ain't right."

Cole grinned as Sera ran off, a bright, innocent expression that kept Varric calling him kid. "She said I wasn't all wrong."

"I told you, kid. You want to make Buttercup happy, a prank's the way to go. Next, we'll work on not saying everything you think."

"Can we still fix the doll for Josephine? The rashvine itched and itched and itched."

"No problem, kid. Let's go kidnap a doll."