Summary: A night of drinks and a show goes awry for Hawke and her friends.
A/n: Written for Friday night dadrunkwriting on 5/26. Prompt sent in by motherofgriffins: "Where the fuck did that clown come from?"
Correction
Aderyn leaned back in her chair, the upward curve of her lips didn't quite reach a smile. The cup took a slow track from the table to her lips as her eyes followed the action keenly. Her fingers wove a strand of her red hair around her finger as she watched a show meant to entertain devolve into a brawl.
Fenris sneered and glared for but a moment before he launched forward in a flash. Isabela danced out of the way with the quick and legendary grace of a swashbuckling duelist. Varric dodged more than one punch before getting caught in the face with a wildly flung tankard.
Poor Sebastian tried to calm things down. He stood raising his hands and his voice in an effort to hush the crowd. It only called attention to him. Aderyn wondered if it was the drink one woman threw at him that pushed him into the fray or the slice of roast beef that landed against his cheek with a resounding slap.
Her chest shook with laughter, while Merrill ducked beneath their table. "Does this always happen?" she asked peeking up at the other mage.
"No, these types of things are a rare kind of fun," Aderyn explained.
"Fun?"
Hawke just nodded. "Indeed."
"If it's so fun, why are you sitting here?"
"I prefer to watch. I'm not so great with the fisticuffs."
Merrill nodded for a moment, then screeched when someone grabbed her foot. Aderyn moved with haste, breaking her half-drunk mug over the thug's head. His hand went limp and she offered Merrill a hand; arm in arm the pair of them moved a little farther from the action, hoping not to draw much more attention.
A large man in bright clothes threw a punch at Carver. Merrill flinched when it connected.
"I don't think I like watching," she said.
The redhead chuckled when her lumbering brother wrapped a thick arm around the man's neck. Aderyn's hand rose and Merrill looked up at her. The red head just gave her a quick nod and the elf's mouth snapped closed. The bartender pulled open the door and Carver shoved his charge out into the street.
"And stay out, you filthy blighter," the bartender called after the third bloodied man to be thrown out. He punctuated his yell by spitting in their direction.
Aderyn made her way back to the table as her friends wandered over as well; comparably unscathed and breathing with calm ease she and Merrill retook their seats. Carver had to steal a chair from another table as he'd broken his over the smaller man.
Her brother leaned on the table, his breath coming heavily. "Where the fuck did that clown come from?"
"If I had to guess, I'd say Orlais," Varric noted.
"Explains the outfit for sure," Isabela added.
Anders return slowed as he reached the steps. His eyes scanned the room and the occupants of their table—Fenris' busted lip, the slice in Isabela's blouse, the bloody handful of cloth staunching the blood from Carver's nose, the way Varric rubbed at his shoulder, and Sebastian's black eye. He sat down beside Aderyn. "You know I do hate it when you start fights without me."
"Then perhaps you should magic yourself a larger bladder," Fenris grumbled.
A moment of silence fell around the table, before the raucous laughter started. Even Anders chuckled, though Aderyn doubted he found it quite as funny as the rest of them.
"I take it the famed clown show was not well-received," he asked, leaning nearer to Aderyn.
She turned her head and smiled at him. "No," she said with a shake of her head. "He and his brightly clad brethren found that insulting the crowd in the Hanged Man wasn't quite so well-received as in other locales."