"You know, Varric," said Isabela, considering him over her wine glass, "You're actually kind of attractive for a dwarf."
"Was that meant to be a compliment, Rivaini?" replied Varric, not looking up from the story he was working on. "Because I've heard better."
She pulled herself up onto the table so that he had no choice but to look at her face or her chest. After a moment he chose her face. "I'm just saying. Here you are, a charming example of dwarf manliness, known across Kirkwall for your thrilling tales of adventure and romance, and yet you're stuck alone in this little room with noone to keep you warm at night. It doesn't seem right."
"Fenris turn you down again, huh?"
Isabela stuck out her tongue. "Aveline, actually."
"Isabela, she's engaged."
"I invited Donnic as well!"
Varric groaned. "You're incorrigible, you know that? Anyway, I'm not alone, I have Bianca. Who, amongst other things, doesn't spill wine on my work." He pointedly extricated the pages of paper she was leaning on and flattened out the creases.
Isabela rolled her eyes. "That only happened one time! And I'm open to threesomes." She smiled seductively and pushed her fingers through his chest hair. Varric frowned and gently removed her hand.
"Isabela," he said, firmly. "No. I'm sorry, you're a lovely woman, but you're just not my type."
She sat back slightly, giving him space, but didn't look convinced. "Well why not? Am I too dark? Too tall? Do you only do other dwarves? Or do you prefer men? I can be pretty manly." She growled and did her best manly expression.
Varric laughed. "You are more than sufficiently manly, Rivaini. Don't take it to heart. But my personal life is my business."
"Heartbreaker," she said with a good natured smile. "But fair enough, I'll stop bugging you. And I'm sure I'll be able to find someone downstairs with sufficiently low standards if I put my mind to it." She slid off the table, sat back in her chair and poured herself some more wine.
A few minutes later she leaned over again. "Anyway, what are you writing?" she asked.
"You'll like this one," he said. "It's about the time the Warden and all her companions had to strip naked to get to Andraste's sacred ashes. I'm hoping to make it so spicy that the Chantry denounces it as sacrilegious, that always increases sales."
Isabela laughed. "Oh yes, she told me about that," she said. "The future King of Ferelden in his small clothes blushing bright red and doing his best not to stare at her breasts." Isabela smiled into space for a moment, lost in memory. "Now there was a dwarf who knew how to have a good time."
"Sounds like a story I should hear," said Varric with an encouraging leer. Varric had already heard a great many tales about the Warden Commander from Anders, but they tended to be more about how terrifying she was.
Isabela poked him in the chest. "Ha, I knew it, it is the dwarf thing!" she crowed. "You should have just said, I'm not going to get all offended and accuse you of being prejudiced against my species or anything. No wonder you're single, there is a pretty dire shortage of lady dwarves in Kirkwall."
A dark look came over Varric's face. "Rivaini," he said, "It is not 'the dwarf thing'. I asked because it sounded like an interesting story. I like those, as you may have noticed." He sighed and put down his pen, then shuffled his papers around awkwardly. "Look, if I tell you something personal, can I trust you not to go spreading it around?"
"Nope."
Varric groaned. "I walked into that one didn't I?" He ran his hand over his face, pushing back a few stray strands of hair that had fallen in front of his eyes then said "Fine. Look, as hard as it may be for you to understand, I don't actually have a type. And don't tell me I just haven't met the right person, believe me I've tried. I'm just…happier as I am. No sex, no romance, just my friends and my work and a good crossbow. I don't usually tell people because they can get a bit weird about it."
"Oh," said Isabela. "So all that stuff about Bianca...right. Nice misdirection." She considered him for a moment and tilted her head thoughtfully. "Then I guess you've never…"
He gave her a quelling look.
"Well, you write very convincingly then," she said.
"I've never killed an archdemon either. It's called using my imagination."
"Ha, point. Well, let me know if you want any technical advice," she said. "Though your love scenes are mostly ok, it's your descriptions of ships that need work. You keep getting the bow mixed up with the stern." She tapped her finger on the edge of her wineglass and looked pensive. They sat in companionable silence for a few moments.
"I honestly can't imagine it," she pondered. "Romance can be a pain, I'll admit, but sex is so much fun." Before he could point out that it wasn't necessarily fun for everyone, she added "Still it takes all sorts, I suppose. And I know how annoying it is when people think they know better than me about what sort of sex I should or shouldn't be having." She smiled at him. "If you're happy, then I'm happy."
"I'm happy to hear it," said Varric. "Although..." He winced. "Really? The bow and the stern? I didn't think I was that bad."
Isabela smiled indulgently and snatched a piece of paper, the pen and some ink. "It's the little details that are tripping you up," she said. "Here, I'll draw you a diagram." She started sketching, bold flowing lines marking out the shapes across the page. Varric pulled his chair closer for a better look and poured himself another glass of wine, and the evening spun out into a pleasant conversation of ropes and bowsprits and the the indefinable siren call of the sea.