Alistair awoke that morning feeling less troubled than he had since Duncan left. The imaginary weight that had been resting on his shoulders, the worry that had come with the thought that he would be the one to make things work until there was something presentable to paying audiences, lifted.

Not that he didn't have new things to rest there… Cullen hadn't told him much, of that Alistair was sure. More than anything, Alistair was surprised at himself for not realizing he barely knew anything of his friend's past before he'd answered the advertisement when Aveline had been searching for a permanent stage manager for the theatre community productions.

But he'd told him enough to understand what had caused Mira to be so upset. His mind wandered to Garrett, and how he didn't tell his cousin that the man she had once been engaged to once was working on the very same production he was asking her to save. Alistair was more than surprised that he hadn't remembered when he'd heard about what had caused their separation in the news five years ago, attributing it to the papers and television and blogs never mentioning any names. Or how Garrett could want to bring up those memories to either of them again as he thumbed through the old news articles on his phone.

Speak of the demon.

Garrett's name flashed across the screen and he hesitated for a moment before opening up the message. Maker only knew what disaster had happened now. The last time, Garrett had somehow managed to light the stage curtains on fire. Alistair quite frankly had not wanted to know how, but from the way Garrett had avoided the front offices for weeks, he was sure Aveline had wanted to.

He hesitated at first to swipe to see the message, his bed was comfortable, his body perfectly warm beneath the sheets, and he wasn't ready to start his day yet, not on a day off. But as his mind raced to all the horrible hijinks Garrett could get himself - and had gotten himself into - his obligations to his workplace eventually overtook the desire of returning to sleep and he slowly slid his thumb across the screen.

G: Come to The Gull tonight. Girls are bringing Mira there.

His sigh filled the air of his room, his eyes closing for a moment in relief before they returned to the message. Alistair's reply was quick, his brow furrowing as he tapped against the screen. And why exactly should I go then if it is just the girls?

G: Rounding up the guys – the more the merrier, I say.

A: Do the ladies know this?

Garrett's reply came several minutes later. No. Followed quickly by: be there at 9… or else…Alistair half expected a third text to come with a 'dun dun dun dunnn' - it had happened before - but was surprised by Garrett's actual next message.

G: I need someone she actually likes there with me.

He set his phone on the bedside table before he flopped back onto the bed, hands running across his face and up into his hair. This could either turn out into a great night for everyone or it could backfire spectacularly. With Garrett involved he knew which one the answer would more than likely be.

And then his mind settled on Garrett's last message. I need someone she actually likes there with me. Mira liked him? Well… he knew Garrett didn't mean it in the middle school like-like, but the words made him smile nonetheless. It was a nice thought to think that even if they'd only met twice so far, she didn't mind his presence. Had she told Garrett that? Or had he just assumed?

He hoped that Garrett was telling the truth.

If he was going to be working with her he wanted their to be a friendship between them. He liked her so far, and everyone's comments after she'd left - save Cullen's - had been about how sweet she was. And she was. He let his mind wander through thought's of her. She'd smelled so nice when he'd lifted her up into the hug, where he accidentally and very unintentionally held on for a bit too long, but Maker's breath she'd smelt like vanilla and he hadn't even realized until he'd set her down that his arms still around her. She was small, he guessed a foot shorter than him at least, for he'd had to pull her up into the hug. He'd liked the sound of her laugh as her feet had left the floor. It was a pretty laugh. Alistair couldn't help but think she was pretty too. There was nothing wrong with thinking of your new boss as pretty… was there?

He smiled when he thought of the dusting of freckles over her face, similar to his own. Of her laugh as she'd followed the lead actors around the theatre. He'd watched as she met everyone – not that he was a creepy stalker or anything like that , he wasn't – but it had been worth it just to hear her, to see her face light up in a smile – her soft lips turning upwards around her teeth, the sensuous curve of them reminding them of those on her body.

He thought of how those lips would feel against his, how those curves of hers would feel pressed to him.

Wait… what?

Isabela had messaged Mira to tell her that there was a dress code for going out that evening, an informal one, but one that they'd kept for all their girl night's. She would have to wear a dress, that was the rule. On a whole, Mira hadn't always been a fan of that form of clothing… but if that's what she had to do… She'd gladly do it.

Thankfully, she'd had the mind to pack at least one dress from her apartment in Denerim, a dark purple one that was better suited for daily errands than clubbing, but it was what she had. And she didn't have time to shop for a new one, only a couple hours left before she'd have to meet them there.

She was looking forward to that night. If she was going to be spending the next two months with these women, she wanted to get to know them. And a little fun and alcohol would certainly help that happen.

And it would get her out of the apartment.

Things between her and Garrett had ground to a halt since the day before. He hadn't even realized she'd left the theatre until at least an hour later. She was sitting, knees to her chest, on her bed, when she heard the front door open and her name called.

She didn't answer.

Didn't acknowledge the repeated knocks against her door, which stopped when Bruno starting growling at the sound from where he sat cuddled against her.

They hadn't spoken. They would have to. But she wanted to put off the conversation for as long as she could. She just didn't want to look at him until her anger subsided. Until she thought she could trust him to be honest with her again.

Alistair tried to keep his thoughts in check the rest of the day. Thinking of her as pretty was one thing - he could find someone aesthetically pleasing - couldn't he? - but the moment he thought about turning thoughts into actions he knew he would be lost if he continued down that road.

She's your boss, Alistair. Your boss .

You've met her twice, Alistair, and your blighted 'downstairs brain' is already ruining this. You've already had to take one cold shower. She's your boss, maybe eventually a friend, but nothing more.

Was planning on going to The Gull tonight a mistake already?

She'd never been to The Gull before. She'd been expecting a bar that was populated by a younger crowd, dim lighting, and bass heavy music. She was surprised, pleasantly so, that it seemed more in the style of a pub… With a dance floor. Well, that certainly was an interesting idea.

Emmalee was the first to see her, the raven-haired Trevelyan jumping up from her seat to guide her over to their table. "I'm so glad you're here, now there's six of us! Some of the girl's couldn't make it out tonight: Leliana, Dagna, and Lace have work tonight at their other jobs; Vivienne's had a family emergency and is spending the night at the hospital; and well, Morrigan and Aveline never usually join us."

Mira was almost overwhelmed with the names again, trying to put them to the faces she'd met. When they'd got to the table, Emmalee could clearly see the furrow of her brow as she worked out the names of the women who were present.

She halted her steps, leaning in close to Mira as she spoke just over a whisper. "Isabela you probably remember more from yesterday, since well, you've spent more time with her and I. The other girls are Merrill - you've probably met her a couple times right?" Mira nodded, those were the ones she knew. "Josephine's the one in the yellow dress, she handles the theatre's marketing. And Sera's the blonde. She's one of the fairies, along with Dagna, her girlfriend. She's our resident troublemaker… well, along with your cousin."

When they reached the table, she greeted each one, a smile from each of them when her hello's were by name. She'd have to thank Emmalee profusely later .

They spoke for quite some time, about anything and everything, the waitresses coming round for their drinks whenever one was emptied, bringing a fresh one in its place. They'd told her tales of Garrett's mishaps, and despite her frustration with him, she couldn't help but laugh at the situations he'd found himself in. Had he really set the stage curtains on fire? Weren't they supposed to be fireproof?

And then talk moved to asking her questions about her work in Denerim or her life before in the Free Marches. She'd suspected that Emmalee was from there as well, given her accent, and was pleasantly surprised to find someone else was from near Kirkwall, the Trevelyan family hailing from Ostwick. She asked them similar questions as well, learning a bit more about their lives both inside and outside the theatre.

And then the talk inevitably turned to where it usually turned when drinks were involved. Love lives… the topic that Mira had been hoping wouldn't come up. She didn't currently have one, not in five years, throwing herself into her work. But these women all knew each other, already knew each other's relationships. Mira was new, and unknown story just waiting to be told.

"So…" Merrill's smile betraying her excitement. "See anyone cute so far here in Redcliffe? At the theatre? Any of the boys?" And quickly added. "Or girls?"

Josephine couldn't hide her own interest either. "Oh yes, do tell us! Or is there anyone in Denerim you left behind?"

Before Mira could even open her mouth to respond, Isabela sent a wink in her direction. "Alistair certainly has taken a liking to you, could barely take his eyes off you. He's usually pretty touchy-feely, but I don't think I've ever seen a hug of his last quite that long before."

"Oh - I don't - I don't know about that. It was a hug. I - I suppose."

Emmalee giggled, the sound nearly drowned out by the pre-programmed stereo's music as it changed to a faster tune. "Are big, strong Ferelden's not to your liking?"

"Indeed. Rumour has it you left the theatre in quite a hurry after meeting Cullen." Isabela leaned forward on her elbows, awaiting her answer just as eagerly.

Mira didn't miss the way Emmalee eyes lit up when Cullen's name was mentioned, and she was wondering if answering would be a good idea. Maybe he'd changed since then. His looks certainly had. Why couldn't he have? "Would it be alright if we didn't talk about that?"

"You sure?"

She sighed, taking a long drink of her beer before answering, knowing that eventually she'd have to explain. It might as well be sooner than later. "We were engaged a few years ago. It didn't work out. Yesterday was the first time seeing him since then. Can we not talk about it now?"

Isabela gave her a sad smile, taking hold of her hand and squeezing it once before letting go. "Sure, kitten."

"He was a bit of a tit back then, yeah?" Sera piped up for the first time from where she sat slumped down in her chair, a row of shots lined in front of her and Mira had to wonder if she was old enough to even be in the bar.

She was about to answer when The Gull's door opened.

Mira knew she shouldn't have been surprised that Garrett had decided to crash the girl's night out. She should have known that he'd catch wind of it somehow and want to see if they could mend this knew rift between them over a few drinks.

She was acting childish, that she knew. But it was going to take a lot more than a night out at a bar to get her to forgive him. Thankfully, she didn't think anyone had caught her frown as the group he'd brought with him made their way over to their table, pulling a few other unoccupied ones over to fit everyone. Garrett, Krem, Varric, Zevran, Bull, Dorian, Thom, Alistair, and Cullen then took their seats, outnumbering the girls.

Isabela was the first to speak, her tone teasing. "I don't remember inviting all of you. But who am I to complain when a horde of handsome men join us."

Mira could complain. But she bit her tongue. Now was not the time.

She caught Garrett's hopeful smile in her direction before she looked away. She leaned over to Emmalee, wishing in the woman's ear. "I'm gonna run to the ladies. Which way is it."

Emmalee took her hand before she was standing, the action pulling Mira to her feet as well. "If you don't mind us, ladies and gents. We'll be right back."

The washrooms were across the bar and the door had barely closed before Emmalee was asking her if she was alright. She was? Wasn't she?

No.

And then she was spilling the whole story out to Emmalee, how she and Cullen had met, how everything had fallen apart in one night and the hellish trial that had happened afterwards. How the man responsible was rotting in prison and how she hoped he'd rot in the Void too. How Cullen had changed afterwards. How everything in her life that she had been planning came to an abrupt halt.

Emmalee quietly listened, wiping away her tears when they fell, giving her hand a squeeze when sometimes the words became too much. When it was over, she asked if she was ready to return to everyone else, and if not that that was okay too. Mira gave her a soft smile, thanking her and apologizing for the past twenty minutes. Emmalee said it was nothing, saying that she wanted them to be friends and what else were friends for than for listening to you when you needed it?

By the time they returned, she found the lights had dimmed, clearly the dancing had started as a live band had set up at the front of the room.

Emmalee offered to go get their drinks at the bar, nodding towards the white haired tattooed man who was serving. "I'll be right back, you go and sit, kay?"

Mira nodded her head, noticing that most of their group had started to dance as she sat down. Save her and Cullen. He was seated at the other end of the tables, back nearly facing her as he watched the dance floor, quietly tapping his hand against the surface of the table to the beat of the music.

She was feeling guilty for how she'd reacted, but that didn't mean she was going to ask him to dance with her. He'd seemed so hopeful when he'd seen her, but she wasn't ready, not yet. She'd just wait until Emmalee returned and then maybe they could join everyone else on the floor… not that Mira would do more than sway her hips to the beat. A dancer, she was not.

But she didn't have to sit for long, Emmalee still standing at the bar, when Alistair was sitting down in Isabela's empty seat beside her.

"I haven't seen you up dancing yet." He turned his hand that was resting on the table until the palm was facing up towards her. "Want to?"

"I - I shouldn't. I've got two left feet."

The grin didn't falter on his face. "Then it's a good thing I've got two right ones."

She didn't have a good reply for that, save a quick smile before her teeth chewed on her lower lip. And then his hand took hers and he was leading her to the dance floor. His other hand moved to hold her waist when they'd reached the edge of it and she tried to blame the heat rising across her skin on the alcohol. Why were her hands so clammy? Would he be put off by it? Why was she suddenly caring what he thought about her hands? Andraste's tits, he's your assistant director, it doesn't bloody well matter what he thinks of your hands because you're his superior.

They swayed for a few minutes, the pace picking up with the music as it quickened. She had to crane her neck up even with her heeled boots to look at him, lest she still stare at the collar of his shirt. Why were Ferelden's always so tall?

She gasped when his hand at her hip left her as the hand that was joined with hers raised upwards, barely able to finish the sound before the world was twirling around her. The sound quickly became a string of giggles as he spun her, the skirt of her dress fluttering outwards.

She was breathless when he stopped spinning her, a smile growing across her face. But he looked nervous, his hands trembling as he placed one back on her hip.

"Was that okay? I'm sorry, just kind of acted before thinking."

"Don't be sorry. I liked it." She let go a laugh. "You're right. Our feet do go together."

Alistair was not good at following his own word it seemed. He'd meant to keep some distance between them. Professional distance. But then he'd seen her sitting at one end of the table alone, save for Cullen who was facing the other way. And then before he knew it he was asking her to dance.

He hadn't meant for it to go on for several songs either… but as the music slowed, he pulled her a fraction closer to him and he was trying not to think about how she felt against him.

He cleared his throat, maybe talking would keep his mind off how she felt so warm, so nice there pressed to his chest. "So… is everything going alright so far?"

"So far? I don't start until tomorrow Alistair."

"I know. I just mean… is everyone being nice to you?"

A sigh. "You mean Cullen in particular, don't you?"

"I… well…"

"It's okay, Alistair. He told you didn't he, why I was upset?"

He swallowed, feeling like he was ruining whatever this moment had been between them. "A little." He didn't like the sadness that came into her eyes when he said the words or the frown that crossed her lips. "How about we forget I said anything?"

She smiled weakly. "Alright."

He searched for words anything to change the subject, blurting out the first thing that came to mind before even thinking those were the exact words he was trying to avoid. "You look nice - pretty - tonight."

Dammit, Alistair.

And then she'd leaned her head against his chest, but he could see the smile she was trying to hide. And he felt something in his heart he wasn't sure he'd felt before.

He'd called her pretty.

Now she was sure it wasn't the alcohol alone colouring her cheeks. She tried to hide her smile in his shirt, but was probably failing miserably.

He'd called her, Mira Amell, pretty. Maybe she did have a type, because it made her stomach do flips. Maybe Emmalee had hit the nail on the head. Blighted tall, handsome Fereldens.

She cast a glance back to their table at thought, seeing Emmalee and Cullen quietly talking, it seemed her new friend had the same taste. Cullen's hand was rubbing against his neck, an old gesture Mira remembered from whenever she got him flustered. She was smiling at the thought before she even realized she was. Maybe the old Cullen that she used to know, before everything had fallen apart, had come back.

And that gave her something to hope for.