Varric's head was pounding.
Hawke had once again managed to convince him to take a long, hot, dusty walk outside of the city. He didn't understand how this kept happening. He hated walking, and he hated nature. And yet, here he was. Not only was he soaked with sweat, his feet aching, but he had been listening to Blondie and the elf argue for what seemed like hours now. If they didn't shut up, he was going to let his crossbow have a go at them, and then toss their carcasses in a shallow grave.
Maybe he would throw Hawke in on top, for good measure.
Okay, that wasn't really fair. In fact, he was as much to blame for the current state of affairs as she was - if not more so. In the beginning, it had been Hawke, Bethany, Aveline and himself. They'd all gotten along just fine, and Varric had inserted a little extra swagger into his step as he'd paraded around Kirkwall in the company of three lovely ladies (knowing that all three of them were deadly as sin had only added to the allure.)
He'd been the damned fool that had introduced Hawke to Anders.
She'd been reluctant from the start. Varric had convinced her that they needed him and his maps of the Deep Roads. The possessed apostate and the mule-headed rogue fought more than he and Bartrand, by the stone - heated arguments rivaled only by cold silences. That didn't stop the mage from eyeing her like a hungry mabari eyes his next meal – and even a dull dwarf such as himself knew that THAT could not possibly lead anywhere good.
Then, just to add fuel to the fire, they'd crossed paths with the slave. The elf had tricked them into springing a trap that had been set for him, and Hawke hadn't been amused when she'd realized they'd been duped. However - for reasons Varric still didn't fully comprehend - she'd agreed to help the fugitive face his former master. Since then, Fenris had become a constant companion of Hawke's, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to overlook the surreptitious glances they threw each other's way with accumulating frequency as the days passed.
You'd have to be a blind nug not to notice. Varric wasn't blind. Apparently, Blondie wasn't, either.
Now, instead of being a handsome and easygoing dwarf surrounded by a bevy of beautiful women, he was just one more irritated male orbiting in Hawke's increasingly friction-filled universe. It was a rather distressing development.
Blessedly, mage and elf subsisted into sullen silence. Hawke led the way, oblivious. Varric skulked and perspired, bringing up the rear.
He made two vows to himself, right then and there…one, he would never willingly join forces with a female again, no matter how lovely and lethal she was.
And two, the next one of those blasted nug humpers that opened their mouth was going to get one of Bianca's bolts right between the eyes.