Hi all, so this is my new fic... hope you enjoy!

"You're staring." The elf's eyes were narrowed in accusation.

"I'm not staring," replied his companion. "I'm waiting for an answer, my broody friend. It's called 'having a conversation'."

"I'm not dignifying your 'question' with an answer."

"Oh come on, Elf, what the hell happened? I don't know many people who'd get into Hawke's bed just to kick her out of it…"

The swordsman's eyebrow arched, making Varric take pause. He knew that look. It was a look that said, simply, 'shut up.' A sense of self-preservation made him take heed, and he fell silent, but his gaze did not flicker from the taller man's intense stare. Not until the bar girl leaned in to take their now empty tankards, and both men raised their eyes to greet the intruder.

Varric smiled, "Two more please, dear. I'll have a hot rum and this friendly fellow wants another ale."

The girl was pretty enough, and gave him a smile as she nodded. However, when she caught sight of Fenris' expression she bustled away quickly and quietly. Varric watched her disappear into the crowd around the bar, smiling to himself as some of the more 'friendly' patrons greeted certain parts of her more enthusiastically than others.

Fenris sighed. "I wonder how different working in here is to being a slave. Taking orders, serving the whims of others, others looking at you like your nothing but an object… " He mused, watching after the girl.

Varric was relieved to see his rigid stance had dropped a little and his eyes had widened. Good. The more relaxed the Elf was the more malleable he would be "I don't see many similarities. I mean in here, you have good company, good drink, you get paid and you can have sex with…"

Fenris' blush rushed to his cheeks. "I had se…!"

His objection trailed away when Varric raised his eyebrows. "For some reason… given recent events… I find that highly unlikely, Elf."

"Hawke sent you, didn't she? She told you…" Fenris asked dejectedly.

"No. Well, yes. Hawke just wants to know that you're alright. Isabella on the other hand wants all the gory details…"

"Gory details…?" The swordsman queried warily.

"Um… I think one of them was does that light up too…?"

The blush returned, more furiously than before. "Venhedis!" His fists crashed to the table as he rose from his chair. "I will not take this abuse…!"

"Calm down, Elf." Varric gestured lazily for his friend to retake his seat. "Believe me, she can ask you that for herself… I don't think I could live with the mental image…" He chortled a little uncomfortably. "No. I'm more interested about what happened after… she has no idea why you left, and you know better than anyone how easily you can wound her…"

"I told Hawke why I left." His brow furrowed, but it seemed more with worry than with anger. The elf's tone was quieter too, defensive. Varric wasn't surprised, he knew bluster when he saw it.

"Yes, yes… some lunacy about having a flashback. That's hardly an explanation."

Fenris nodded his thanks as the barmaid returned and placed his tankard in front of him.

"I… don't think I can explain." He grunted as she sauntered away. "I don't think I even understand it myself…"

"Try me." Varric leaned back in his chair, a friendly smile printed on his lips.

Fenris observed him for a moment. "Not a chance."

"Oh come on! It's me! Remember? The oh-so-charming dwarf who listened to your troubles and gave you advice in the Deep Roads? Advice that you took as I recall…"

"And look where that got me."

"In Hawke's bed?"

"In here answering your fool questions!"

"My advice was sound, Elf, it's not my fault your goods didn't deliver…"

"There's nothing wrong with my 'goods.' The problem is that my past caught up with me… again…"

"Seems to me, the issue is your head, not your…?"

The dark scowl was enough to silence him, though not through fear. Varric chuckled, "probed a nerve, did I?"

"You know, if you ask any dwarf in the Carta, they'll tell you that being short isn't a defence from these brands…"

Varric took a leisurely swig from his mug before replying. "Yeah yeah, heard it all before. You ever consider not acting like the biggest brood factory in Kirkwall…?"

"No."

"Think about it. Might help your chances with women."

"I had a chance…"

"And you blew it. What does that tell you?"

Fenris sighed heavily. "If you're trying to get me to talk, you could try fewer insults and more alcohol." He paused, inspecting his mug. "Make that a lot more."

Varric grinned. "Now you're talking my language, Elf. What say we get a tab and go back to my quarters? I have a proposition for you…"

Fenris blinked. "Are you Isabella in disguise?"

"Not that sort of proposition. I have plenty of other sources to tap… if you get my drift…" Fenris scowled, so Varric pressed on hurriedly. "Here's the deal. You tell me why you left Hawke, I'll tell you a truth about me. Anything you like. Bullshit not included." The elf's eyebrow arched again, this time in disbelief, and the dwarf chuckled. "Alright, bullshit an optional extra."

"Who's option?"

"Well… what good artist never took a little license?"

"Hmmmmm… I think that's an offer I'll take you up on." Fenris' eyes wandered lazily across the dwarf's small frame, eventually coming to rest on the crossbow leaning against the table leg. "Fine, dwarf, I'll tell you what happened with Hawke, if you tell me why you named your crossbow 'Bianca'."

Varric felt a stone slide down his throat and into his stomach. He hid his nerves, plastering his trademark well-practised smile across his face. "And why do you want to know about that?"

"The way you fondle your weapon disturbs me," came the frank response.

"Well," the storyteller chuckled, "sometimes worthwhile weapons need a worthwhile fondle… it's not something you'd understand."

"This was your bargain, merchant, and those are my terms."

Varric sighed theatrically. He tipped the remainder of the rum to his lips and beckoned one of the maids over. "Suit yourself, Elf," he said, casting his eyes over Fenris' half-full mug. "Catch up with me when you're man enough to finish drinking that."