Anders hummed quietly to himself as he ground the small seeds, crushing them with the pestle and mortar. He inhaled the spicy sweet scent as they yielded up their aromatic oils and nodded in satisfaction; the vendor in the market had spoken the truth when he claimed they were fresh. So much of what filtered down to the market in Lowtown was old, dusty and had lost most of its efficacy by the time it exchanged hands for a few meagre coppers carefully scrimped and saved. But Anders had gotten lucky; a new herbalist appeared recently from Ferelden, and his stock was fresh and still good. Doubtless the quality of his wares would taper off over time, but Anders had taken advantage to restock whilst he could.
He carefully tipped the crushed seeds into the potion steeping in the jar by the fire then stirred them in before cautiously inhaling the steam. He nodded with satisfaction, then set the pestle and mortar to one side before cupping his hands around the warm earthenware jar. Closing his eyes, he willed energy into the brewing potion, augmenting it subtly. This healing draught when finished would be much more effective than those produced from the usual paltry supplies he was usually able to afford. A little would go further and last longer. And just as well, really; Hawke's various escapades of late had decimated his supply rather badly. The rogue had a definite knack of diving headlong into trouble – rather painful trouble recently.
He stepped back; the potion needed to steep a while longer, but the main work was done. Nodding in satisfaction, he picked up the pestle and mortar and the other implements he had been using, gathering them up in a bucket then heading towards the small yard that led off the back of his clinic. Pouring in water from a rain barrel, he heated the water with a gesture then set to work washing up.
"A quiet day, Blondie?" remarked a voice from the doorway behind him; Anders started. Lost in his own thoughts, he hadn't noticed the dwarf enter the clinic, but his smile as he glanced over his shoulder was welcoming.
"Varric! To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Oh, nothing major," replied the dwarf, moving over towards a wooden crate and sitting himself down as he tugged off his leather gloves. "I was in the area and thought I'd drop by. I've brought your share from that last trip we made." he pulled out a small pouch of coin and tossed it to the blond apostate, who caught it left-handed then tucked it into a pocket in his robes. "You look positively domestic, Blondie."
"Just catching up on stuff," replied Anders, jerking his chin at the water. "That last trip pretty much cleaned out the last of my supply of potions. I hope Hawke doesn't have any plans to drag us off anywhere violent in the next couple of days, because that's how long it's going to take me to brew more."
"I think we've all earned a couple of days off, Blondie," replied Varric with a grin. "In fact, that was the other reason I'm here; a few of us are getting together for drinks at the Hanged Man tonight. I thought you might like to come along."
A wistful look crossed Anders' face. "I'd like to, Varric, but..."
"No buts, Blondie. You're coming tonight if I have to come drag you there myself," replied the dwarf as he stood up, waggling a finger sternly at the man. "Do I make myself clear?"
Anders blinked. Varric grunted as if that were assent and nodded. "That's settled then. See you at sunset."
Anders blinked again then smiled as the dwarf left the clinic. An evening in good company without anyone trying to kill him sounded good...
