(AN: So here's another chapter, it's short but it does have a purpose in setting up things for the future. Also, bonus points to anyone who got the reference to Hawke's nickname of Carver.)

Michael looked down at the tankard of ale that was handed to him by Nora the barmaid. It was dark and had a very hoppy smell to it.

"As a spy, you travel all over the world, and you're exposed to all sorts of customs and cultures. And unless you spend most of your times in countries that have outlawed alcohol, at some point you're going to have to take a drink with your new contacts. It helps with the bonding experience and establishes rapport. Whether its homemade aquavit brewed by your Norwegian contact in Kiev, or some orguro from your asset's father in the Democratic Republic of Congo, at some point you're going to have to drink something very potent, and/or disgusting."

He took a sip and made a wry face.

"…and after years of drinking whatever rockgut is put in front of you for diplomacy's sake, it's safe to say it never gets any easier."

"I don't see why I have to buy the first round."

Michael's musings were interrupted by Fenris' complaint. Varric sipped his ale and chuckled.

"Oh come on, Broody, you're just sore because you lost."

"No, I'm sore because a certain pirate tripped me, otherwise I wouldn't have been last."

Isabella put one of her thigh boots on the table, right in front of Michael, and showing more leg than was appropriate for professional acquaintances.

"Then wear try wearing shoes, Fenris, then you won't be so easy to trip. And you can trip others, too."

She looked over to Michael.

"Enjoying the view, Ser Westen?"

Michael shook his head.

"It's hard to enjoy the view with your boots in the way."

"I bet you tell all the pretty girls that."

"No, just the ones who shove their boots in my face."

He stood up, leaving his ale tankard. Varric chuckled.

"Well well, Isabella I think you just got stood up."

She was about to come up with another playful retort when Hawke came in with her sister in tow. Bethany appeared very worried.

"Sister, I'm telling you I saw him."

Kitty Hawke shook her head.

"Bethany, you're imaging things."

She turned to Varric.

"Varric, you know everything that goes on in Lowtown, Bethany is worried because there's a Templar downstairs in the bar."

The dwarf leaned back in his chair.

"Let me guess, balding, bad beard and looks drunk as a Chanter on Andraste's birthday?"

Hawk nodded, and Varric waved his hand.

"Don't worry yourself, Sunshine. Roderick is a drunkard who is at the Hanged Man more than he is at the Gallows. And if he's not drunk, he's high on Lyrium. He's harmless."

That seemed to calm Hawke's younger sister. Michael was leaving when Hawke and her sister showed up and was now watching the exchange.

"Excuse me, Hawke?"

She turned to him and playfully swatted him on the elbow.

"How many times do I have to tell you, it's Kitty. If you say 'Hawke' in a room full of Hawke's they're liable to get confused. And we're a confused lot as it is."

Michael chuckled to himself.

"Okay, Kitty, why is your sister so scared of Templars?"

Everyone at the table stopped what they were doing and gave Michael Westen an odd look. It was Fenris who was the first to speak.

"You really must not be from these parts."

He turned to Hawke.

"Are you sure he is not a Tevinter spy?"

Michael inwardly cursed.

"One of the cardinal rules in the spy world is maintaining your cover ID. It's important for the mission and important if you want to stay alive. If you let you guard down for even a moment, then something as innocent and mundane as a simple question or quip can unravel a cover, and that kind of mistake will get you killed."

Hawke held up a hand.

"I told you, he's an ex-spy with a price on his head. And he comes from a far-off land called Miami."

She looked at Michael.

"A place where apparently mages are not persecuted."

"Of course it helps when you have a local asset who has feelings for you and is willing to go to great lengths to make sure your cover sticks, and by that extension keeps you alive."

He turned from Kitty Hawke to the broody elf.

"You are right, I was a spy. And the land I came from was very similar to this Tevinter Imperium, in that they didn't persecute their mages."

Fenris shook his head.

"I still haven't heard of this Miami you speak of."

Michael shrugged, and Kitty spoke up.

"Well, some people think the Qunari fell out of the sky, since they didn't show up until a couple of hundred years ago."

She turned to Fenris.

"I trust Michael, and you trust me, so trust me when I say he is not a spy for the Tevinter Imperium."

She turned back to Michael.

"In answer to your question, in Ferelden and the Free Marches mages are considered a dangerous threat that has to be contained. Templars are usually charged with the hunting and containing of mages.'

Michael nodded.

"Someone that has been persecuted all their lives is going to be paranoid."

He looked over to Bethany.

"It's a useful trait to have, by the way."

Varric ordered another round of ales.

"You don't need to worry about Templars in Lowtown, Sunshine. Besides you know what Templars are like, bunch of bitchy little girls if they face real threats. And you know your sister will defend you."

He didn't notice the odd look Michael was giving him, but Kitty did.

"What's wrong, Michael?"

He grinned humorlessly and shook his head.

"Nothing, it's just some people here remind me of some colleagues I had back in Miami."

It was late when the last of Hawke's companions left, leaving only Kitty, Michael and Varric in his private suite. The dwarf shut the door and sat back down.

"Hawke, I have a proposition for you."

Kitty smiled.

"You probably shouldn't have Michael in here when you proposition me, or else he'll get jealous."

Varric chuckled.

"Oh, trust me Hawke, I wouldn't dream of propositioning you in front of your new boyfriend."

Hawke blushed but tried to cover it by taking a drink from her tankard. Varric continued.

"So, here's the thing, we need to find a way into the Deep Roads. Bartrand can lead us to the right place once we're down there, but we need a good entrance."

Hawke looked thoughtful for a moment before responding.

"Any entrance would do, wouldn't it? Unless there's a hungry dragon sitting in it, I suppose."

"We need an entrance that's close to our destination, but isn't already plundered or filled with darkspawn. Fortunately I've received some new information."

He stood up.

"There's a Grey Warden in the city. If anyone knows how to get down there, it'll be him."

Hawke smiled.

"Sounds like you have it all planned out, Varric."

Varric bowed with a smirk.

"And that, messere, is why I'm here."

He looked over to Michael.

"You should bring him with you, too. Darktown is a scary place, and the lowlifes there only respect force. I've seen Bright Eyes in action, so do me a favor and take him with you."

Michael gave him a flat look.

"Bright Eyes? Really?"

Varric chuckled.

"Oh, come on Michael, I have nicknames for all of Hawke's companions, but since you're such an enigma all I have to go with is your handsome good looks."

Hawke giggled again and stroked Michael's cheek.

"Bright Eyes, I love it."

Michael sighed.

"Vaughn, if you can hear me, I'm going to find you and kill you very slowly."

"That's not a very nice thing to say to your deity Vonn, Michael. Now come on, drink up! You're at least two tankards behind Varric, which means you're four behind me..."

(AN: Yeah, I know I'm being kind of blatant with the Hawk/Westen shipping, but I promise it will be a fun ride. Anyways, hope you enjoyed this short little chapter, I'll try and have another one up in about a week or two. Until then!)