"Stop scratching."
"I'm trying."
"Try harder. You're just going to make it bleed and that's just going to spread it even farther."
"Can you tell me something I don't know?"
There's a long pause. Across the campfire, Cassandra ducks her head against the pitiful tone of Varric's voice.
"Well, once my father dropped my little brother on his head and he needed four stitches. I was young and thought it was the best thing ever so I asked him to drop me too so I wouldn't be left out."
"That's… yeah, I have no idea what to say to that."
"That's pretty much what my mother thought too."
"Look, getting away from what I'm pretty sure none of us needed to know about how you grew up, how about liberating one of those potions for me before I peel my entire hide off?"
"Sorry, Varric." And the tone really is sorry. The Inquisitor almost claps the dwarf on the shoulder before hastily pulling their hand back. The sour look on Varric's face is priceless. "We only have one left and while I know it probably feels like you're dying, it's just a rash."
"This is not 'just a rash'. This is a personal Blight sent to test me."
"And I know you can triumph. Solas says you'll be fine in a couple of days."
"In a couple of days, there's going to be nothing left of me. Promise me you'll bury me holding Bianca. She's never let me down."
"Stop. Scratching! Do you want me to tie your hands together?"
"Inquisitor, that's the best offer I'm going to get all week but I gotta warn you, any squirming I do on the sheets is gonna be for me, not you."
Cassandra can't help the strangled snort that escapes and Varric jerks his head up to glare at her. Something hooks at the corner of his mouth at whatever her expression is though and the dwarf glances down again, shoulders hunkering. He looks miserable as his hand starts to creep over his shoulder yet again. The Inquisitor slaps it away and he growls at both of them impartially.
"Next time, Seeker, I'm throwing you into the pretty bushes first."
"If you wish, Varric."
"I hate all of you."
"Yes, Varric."
