The Hanged Man was an absolutely splendid place to Isabela. It was warm, lively, and never ran out of drinks. She had grown to adore that scarred floorboard by the door that groaned under her weight, welcoming her roughly every time she stepped inside. She liked the convenience of the place, too; she didn't have to go far to find mead or a nighttime conquest. While the Hanged Man was not the most enchanting tavern the pirate had seen— and she had seen many during her travels— it certainly was her favorite place in Kirkwall.

Tonight Isabela found herself by the counter, waving for more refreshments from the barman. The day had been long and tedious. Following Hawke around was usually somewhat interesting, but they had all gotten unlucky today. What seemed like a promising lead became a wild goose chase. The sun came and went and none of them had any coin to show for it. Isabela's feet were sore, and she wanted to pour copious amounts of booze into her body to wash away the day's traumatic boredom.
She was already on her way through her third tankard when she saw the blur of a figure in the corner of her eye, someone leaning their hip into the counter beside her. Isabela was pleased to see it was Adeline Hawke, of all people. She felt herself go warm— warmer, thanks to the booze— at the sight of her. Adeline was always a pleasure, at least when she wasn't demanding so work from Isabela.

"Not here to have me follow false leads again, are you, lovely?" Isabela chuckled into her cup, draining the last bit. It took the edge off quite well, and she felt herself growing sleepy and content. To add to it, Hawke had that adorable face. She was giving her that charming measured smile. She could be a real cutie; Isabela figured it was those lips, or maybe those expressive eyebrows. It was probably the way her hair curled around the edge of her forehead, framing her face whimsically.

"Right, about that," Adeline breathed with a laugh. "Brought you something to make up for today." She produced a glass bottle from the satchel at her side and held it out to Isabela. There was a ship inside the bottle. Surprised, Isabela's hands gingerly accepted the token. She lifted it up to her eyes and gazed through the glass at the little model. It was surprisingly intricate; the craftsman had taken the time to assemble every little board and line of cordage. It looked like a swift schooner, not unlike the one Isabela captained long ago. It was a silly little decoration, sure, but for a lovely flicker of time it brought back to Isabela the waving winds of the sea and the tickle of salt in her nostrils. She felt herself grin, full-out lips-parted teeth-shining grinning. This Hawke woman was such a sweetheart. Hawke rested her elbows on the bar, crossing her forearms and ankles casually. She watched Isabela's reaction closely and felt very pleased with herself. "You can't see it, but inside the ship, there's a tiny figurine of you and twelve attentive mariners."

Isabela tore her eyes away from the bottle to meet Hawke's. They had a smiling twinkle to them. Hawke knew the gift was perfect, but she didn't expect Isabela to look so downright cheery. She internally prided herself on this as Isabela said, "A model me? Complete with a cutlass and parrot and all that?"
Hawke gave a laugh. "No, of course not. You're much too good to be so cliche."

"You know me so well," the sailor replied. She set the bottle ship on the counter carefully and lifted her tankard to her lips to finish off its contents. The barman was already poised to fill it up again.

"Look at those rosy cheeks of yours," Hawke remarked playfully. Isabela intended to make a lewd quip about cheeks but found herself silenced by Hawke's subsequent gesture. Hawke reached out and gently brushed her fingers on Isabela's face, right on those aforementioned flushed cheeks. It was a quick, feathery touch, and before Isabela could react, Hawke murmured, "I have to be getting back. You have a good night." There was a smile, a tilt of the head, a turn, and then Hawke was out the door. Isabela felt heat rush to her face. She was relieved Hawke had not lingered to see it.

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