Cassandra wants to bring Josephine fresh flowers from every place they travel and to tell her that each one embodies a hundred moments when she thought of her, but both are impractical; the journeys are far too long and her words are far too small.
Instead she presses leaves and petals between favorite passages of beloved books, some with hastily scratched notes; of uses, meanings, history.
Cassandra presents her book to Josephine in their bed, blushing every time, feeling these gifts inadequate, but Josephine, who yearns to explore, treasures them.
And whenever Cassandra leaves Josephine studies them and envisions her.
...
Cassandra groans as Varric sweeps the pot. Again. "You're hopeless, Seeker, even Ruffles couldn't teach you."
Later, between kisses, Josephine offers just that; "imagine the look on his face," and Cassandra distractedly agrees. They play every night and she learns the cards, the hands, when to fold, when to raise, how to hide her tells. When she is better Leliana occasionally joins and they tell stories, eat snacks, drink wine.
Josephine is in Val Royeaux the first time Cassandra wins the pot. Varric stares, bewildered, as everyone congratulates her and teases him, then shakes his head, "I've created a monster."
...
Josephine stands between Cassandra's knees, her fingers softly carding through her hair, as the seeker rests her forehead against her abdomen, hands on her waist. It is late and the forge is silent and everything is soft shadow in the orange glow.
"What's wrong?" Josephine feels her hands flex against her waist, "please, tell me."
"You deserve better... I don't know how…"
Josephine tugs gently at her locks and Cassandra looks up. "You want me."
Cassandra swallows. "Yes."
"I make you happy."
"Yes."
"Then that is enough." Cassandra wraps her arms around her and Josephine once again strokes her hair.