I. Drinks

"So few pleasures in life are as fine as your company."

They were always chaste glances.

They were quick, simple and sweet and though often times curious little things that left one wanting more they were always quaint. Lady Trevelyan was, after all, a lady and though a mage she was not short upon etiquette. Staring was never an option.

But there were times in which Hawke caught himself. He would often fantasize about the treases of night and silver eyes hidden beneath the black curls. He was here upon business matters and quite frankly what chance did he have with the famed Inquisitor? His time had long since come and now he was just an ex-hero looking to clean up his mess, an apostate simply running and hiding just like before.

He stood no chance and even the glances shouldn't have been allowed, for whatever they were worth.

Hawke never knew when to let things go, however. He was weak to a pretty girl who made him forget what wrongs had been done. And even weaker to ones who lingered in his mind like a dark shadow. He was prone to trouble and in the case of romance it was no different.

"Foolish boy," he had recalled a girl saying to him once. "Don't you know when to let things go?"

Regardless there was a moment in which his weakness drove him mad. He sat in the makeshift tavern and milked an ale for every pretty coin spent upon it. Sometimes when he was here he would imagine Isabella lounging against the bar while Varric was up in his room working on some tale or another. Though surrounded by friends and family he admittedly found himself alone. Maybe that's why he liked her so much, because she made him feel less lonely.

But still he sat and listened to the bard's songs drone on. She had a pretty voice and he decided he'd give her a sovereign or two later on when he was finished drowning here. Whatever was left of the Amell fortune hadn't been put to good use these days. Nothing did for that matter.

"I... Figured I would find you here." the champion heard from off to the side. The golden eyes shifted to the left and quickly caught sight of the seeker. Varric spoke of her and warned him not to get caught alone with her. Something about getting a knife to the book, or something.

"Am I that predictable?" he had suggested with a quaint smile before looking back to the barkeep. He threw another pretty coin his way and in return Hawke was offered yet another drink. He set it off to the side for his company who had slowly came to him. She was like a cautious little bird picking up breadcrumbs. Cautious but hungry.

"Varric said you were here," she said while awkwardly finding her place at his side. "So I don't know if predictable is the right word or not."

Hawke chuckled lowly while shaking his head. He noticed the woman lace her fingers around the mug's handle but for the most part had them stay there. She wasn't too quick to down it and Hawke couldn't help but to feel the same. It was nice to take things slow, even for a second.

"Predictable or not, Varric was telling the truth and that's scary." It was clear from her expression that she knew Hawke was right. The dwarf telling the truth in any sort of fashion signalled something bad and right now more bad wasn't something they needed. Or ever for that matter.

However there was a new silence that overcame the two and from their seats they both quietly listened to the bard sing. It was cold out as the night winds were blowing and neither appeared to be in a rush to leave. And though both were lacking any words to say it was nice.

How often were they allowed to just sit back and to enjoy life so simply?

But as the minutes struck by so idly it began to be painstakingly aware that there was something she wanted to say. She did not approach for no reason and Hawke simply awaited for her to strike when she was ready to. Maybe she wanted to be drunk enough to actually ask it. If that were the case then he figured he probably wanted to be drunk enough to answer it.

But keeping all of that in mind in order to get drunk one needed to drink, which she had not done save for a sip of two leaving the man wondering what her true intentions were.

"So is there something you needed?" he asked then realizing that he probably should have asked a lot sooner considering. The raven-haired woman didn't look to him, merely kept her eyes upon her drink, as more silence followed.

Was he intimidating or did she just have a problem talking? From the way Varric had told him he was sure it was the former. Something about her gaining a crush from the story he had shared once? That and he had heard her before. She had a colourful vocabulary that sometimes made his head ache.

"I just... Wanted to ask you some questions." She said provoking Hawke to turn to look at her. She was stiff and he felt a little bad for her.

"Isn't that why we're apart of the inquisition? To inquisite stuff?"

The woman gave a bit of a scowl as she looked to him. "It would seem you do not lack the humor in Varric's stories."

"Hopefully I don't lack the looks either," The champion jested softly. "or the charm. Those are the best parts of me."

But the woman merely shook her head and quaintly pressed onward. "Varric has said many good things about you. I heard the tale straight from his lying little mouth and I can't say I expected any less. It's almost a shame really."

Hawke gave a light but playful furrow of his brows. "Glad to hear I didn't disappoint, maybe?"

She merely shook her head again and quickly moved onward. She didn't come for his wit or his looks, she came for the truth. "Is it true you and the Inquisitor are..." the woman began while looking away. "An item?"

Suddenly Hawke felt the smile wipe away from his face as he listened to the other tavern-goers talk among themselves. He didn't realize how loud it was until this very moment.

"I'd say us as an item is just as likely as a hole ripping itself through the sky but then I'd just look like an idiot," he said after a few brief seconds. "so no. Why?"

"Because." she answered with an almost matter of fact tone. "I don't want Varric to write of any soppy tragedy if you were to break her heart. It would ruin a good tale."

"Oh? I didn't realize you read his stuff. From how I hear it you much rather shove a knife in it."

Through his remarks the man knew very well that it was the other way around in term of himself and the Inquisitor but all he did was smile. There were some things people should have known and some things they shouldn't have. Maybe it was better to have been the villain as at least that way it was easier to comprehend.

"I'm sensing some jealousy." Hawke jested once more but this time provoking a rather serious reaction. Instead of merely scowling the seeker instead gave a deep leer and turned to face him.

"I beg your pardon? I am not jealous of the Inquisitor! Honestly."

He gave a giddy little laugh and batted his eyes. "Are you sure? I'm sensing some hostili-"

But before any more of a reaction could be mused the woman had picked up her mug and tossed it at him. In consequence the entire bar fell silent as they watched the warm liquid cover every inch of his vestments. Honestly this had been the best waste of the Amell fortune yet. He'd have to write Carver about this one.

"I am not jealous." she muttered before getting upward to leave and pushing through the watching bystanders. Hawke on the other hand sat stilly while shaking off some of the excess drink. It certainly wasn't a knife in the book but it had its charm.

"I think I need another one." Hawke said while handing the barkeep yet another coin. He definitely needed to be drunk if he were to face Varric's jests about this encounter.

That and he'd need to be drunk for the rest of his life to let this one go. And unfortunately for him this would not be the last of his encounters with the Lady Seeker.

Not with his luck.