Fenris stands with arms crossed and watches her pull food and items from a bottomless basket. There are blood red apples and plump purple grapes. The smell of warm bread and cooked meat billows into the air as she unwraps the latest parcel and he shifts on his feet, ignoring the rumble in his stomach.
He knows that he is no master cook. Despite its other challenges, food was never something he had to worry about in his former life. He just needs time to figure it out on his own, and he will suffer a few pounds and burnt pots lost rather than his pride in admitting he needs help.
"You didn't have to do this, Hawke," he says, a small growl of frustration punctuating the end. It is not her he is mad with but himself for allowing anyone to think he is weak. He doesn't know how she sees it, how she keeps breaking into his being when he has locked every entrance.
Hawke looks down at an orange in her hand. "My father used to open oranges by biting into the skin instead of using a knife. It made us laugh to see his face squish up and I always wondered why he did it if it tasted so bad, but maybe that was why. To make us laugh."
She tosses the fruit into the air, looking at him expectantly when he catches it. Fenris only frowns and uses the sharp points of his gauntlets to peel back the skin. If he expected her to be disappointed, the grin on her face proves him wrong.
"Carver tried it one time," she continues and pulls a wheel of cheese and a carafe full of amber liquid from her stash, smile wavering like the liquid within. She has mentioned her brother little in the few weeks since he left. "Never seen him so disgusted, if you can believe it. From then on it was up to me to open the oranges."
"I can manage on my own," he replies, soft this time. For a few long heartbeats Hawke doesn't answer. She rolls the wheel beneath her palm, eyes concentrating on something far beyond this room.
"No man is an island, Fenris," she says, even quieter, and for the first time that night he questions whether she is here for him alone and instead if these words and the late night dining are meant for the both of them. Wonders if he is not the only one left adrift in a new world.
"That's everything then so I…I'll just go. I-"
"Hawke, wait." He pulls a piece from the orange and holds it out to her, a peace offering in a war he is still trying to comprehend. "Stay."
Her eyes brighten as she takes it and he thinks it wouldn't be a horrible thing to be lost in those swirling blue oceans. He isn't satisfied that she'll remain until she takes a bite and laughs with her when some of the juice dribbles down her chin. The hunger inside him changes as he focuses away from the banquet and on this companionship she offers. For so long he has believed that strength can only be found within, but he does not feel weak now.
"So, where do you want to start?" she asks.
He isn't sure, but it doesn't seem to bother him with her by his side.