"I don't understand," Isabelle said looking thoughtful, not really talking to anyone, as she turned one of the tables upright, "why every time they start insulting me they always start with calling me a 'whore?'" Her mind was still bubbling with the ale effects, but she'd reached a contemplative moment.

"Sex is a very powerful weapon..." Zevran replied, while setting chairs back around the table, "whether you use it as a verbal or physical one."

"Right, but I never hear them calling you a whore...." she returned to the chair and sat down. She put her elbows on the table and her chin in her hands.

"Well, for me it's the truth and something I'm proud of...." Zevran smirked, "...it would be a poor way to start a fight with me." He walked over and brushed her hair back over her ear "They don't know you, or what you went through, or the specialness that you held on to....just to have it thrown back at you and used against you."

Isabelle grabbed Zevran's hand and held it to her cheek for comfort. "I guess it just makes me an easy target." She blinked a few times and stared up at Zevran, "I knew I should have just jumped in the tent with you instead..." At least she was recovering her sense of humor about the whole thing and she gave Zevran a devious smile.

"Bah, you'd make a terrible whore.....falling in love all over the place....really bad for business." He kissed the top of her head affectionately.

Bran and Stephen finished tossing the last of the riff raffs out of the tavern and dusted off their hands. "Why didn't you use...?" Bran asked while waving his hands in the universal sign language meaning 'magic.'

"Strudel?" Answered a drunk Oghren.

"No, no, he means whipping cream..." Chimed in Zevran. "I too would like to know why she doesn't use whipping cream!" He looked to Isabelle with arms crossed in mock disgust.

"Don't listen to these drunks, Bran, I knew what you meant." She brushed off Zevran who was starting to go into more details about whipping cream. "Its not really right bringing magic to a fist fight..." Isabelle said, while assessing her swollen temple. "To be defeated by magic simply increases the fear of magic. Besides, its much more embarrassing this way. That man and his friends will never admit what fully happened."

Zevran pulled out a pouch and walked over to the innkeeper and started handing him several sovereigns. Isabelle imagined it was becoming something like a tavern bragging right to have this particular fight take place in their establishment. They always paid for whatever damage they did and then some. She imagined little plaques going up around Ferelden saying "Hero of Ferelden Fought Here" ...and here ...and here ...and here.

Cullen was sitting on a bar stool putting ice on his knuckles. Isabelle kept catching him looking at her strangely. Finally he said, "Where did you learn to fight like that?"

Isabelle shrugged. "After a while you just get tired of being hit and you start hitting back. Aside from that, Oghren's an excellent coach in the art of the bar fight." She smiled at Oghren who had retaken his seat with Felsi on his knee, he was still giggling gruffly. "Best thing he ever taught me was don't fight fair, fight dirty - boxing ears, punching throats, thumbs to eyes - all an art form."

"If more mages were like you..." Stephen started the sentence and stopped when he met Isabelle's cool gaze.

"....you'd consider them more human? Maybe treat them like equals or friends?" Isabelle looked toward Stephen, who had started to shift from foot to foot looking ashamed. She felt guilty, walked over, and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "You'd be surprised how many mages are like me, if you'd just give them a chance."

Stephen and Bran soon took their exit to catch the ferry back to the tower. Isabelle helped finish cleaning up broken mugs and setting the tavern back in order. Shortly Zevran feigned exhaustion and chased the barmaid up the back stairs of the tavern.

"We should go too." Isabelle said as she placed a kiss almost maternally on the forehead of Oghren. "Stay out of trouble and come to the Tower if you get bored."

He smiled the smile that told her he'd passed the point of coherent speaking. She and Cullen walked out into the night air. The Mabari went behind them.

"...and where were you during all that?" Isabelle playfully scolded the Mabari. He gave her a whimper that meant 'behind the bar getting skritches from Felsi.' "That's what I thought...."

The three stood on the shoreline. The breeze off the lake whipped around them. It was warm and comforting. "Bah, we should have left with Bran and Stephen. We'll be waiting here a while." She sighed. She could just barely see the ferry, it had yet to reach the tower.

"I don't really mind." Cullen said sweetly. He swayed slightly and smiled a happy intoxicated smile. He was still favoring his right hand.

"Let me see your hand." Isabelle said and took his hand into hers, checking for any breaks. His hand was warm. She carefully moved her fingers across the knuckles, back of the hand, wrist, and palm to fingertips. The swelling was minimal across the knuckles. She turned his hand over in hers and she heard him intake a quick breath of air, but she wasn't sure whether it was due to pain or something else. "I don't think its broken. It will probably be worlds better tomorrow...."

"Why did you lie to Stephen?" Cullen said.

Isabelle could feel his breath on her forehead as she examined his hand. She attempted to slow her quickening pulse, but there was no use. She furrowed her eyebrows, "What do you mean?" She tried to sound casual, rather than pressed.

"There is no one like you, Isa..." Cullen's voice became deeper as he whispered the words.

Isabelle looked up. She was unaware how close they would be when she did so. Their lips, mere moment from each other. She could feel his breath on her lips now, like a tiny electrical impulse. He looked from her eyes to her lips and back to her eyes. A small grin appeared on his face and his eyes were soft.

"Isa...I..." Cullen said, and put his uninjured hand on the small of her back and pulled her closer. "I...want to kiss you..." He was feeling very brave and didn't want to let the moment pass.

"Cullen..." Isabelle heard her own voice wavering. For a moment she wanted to close that small yet expansive chasm that separated them. Every part of them that touched in that embrace felt on fire. In the morning she could justify this kiss, she thought. There could be no harm in this small, sweet, simple, beautiful...normal...kiss. But no, no, that little voice in the back of her mind, that she wanted to make shut up....for the love of the Maker just shut up...just wouldn't. Instead of letting go and melting into him, she placed her forehead against his and placed a hand upon his chest pushing him back slightly. "...it's the ale talking..."

"No," He said, quietly and frankly, "I've wanted to kiss you...for a lot longer than tonight...."

"Then tomorrow...tomorrow you can ask me again." She struggled to say the words, still forehead to forehead – willing the magnet that was their lips further apart.

"I may not have the courage tomorrow...." He trailed off and pressed his lips to her sore temple and looked off towards the Tower.

"Then...all the more reason..." She said, as she whispered sincerely into his ear, "I would never...ever have you regret...anything. If tomorrow...or the day after that...or the day after that...you still want to kiss me, I promise, I'll oblige."

"Good..." was all he said, quietly, as the pair turned towards the water and waited for the ferry to return. For anyone else, the moment may have been awkward, but the pair sat down on the dock, shoulder to shoulder, comfortable.

"You know..." Cullen broke the silence, "I always wondered why mages wore robes rather than....normal clothes." He said as he nodded, still a little intoxicated, towards her.

"Huh...." Isabelle thought for a moment while she stared out over the water that was reflecting the stars so perfectly. "I guess it has to do with our connection to the Fade. Unless you specifically train to be a warrior of the Arcane, your spells are substantially harder to cast in heavier clothes and armor." She tucked a lock of escaped hair behind her ear and said very nonchalantly. "The less I wear, the closer I connect to the Fade – I suppose none at all would really be ideal. The material of the robes is designed to be whisper thin.....what?" She noticed that Cullen had stopped breathing.

Cullen just stared at her, mouth a-gap. "You're truly evil...Isa...truly evil"