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Interlocking

Chapter Ten: Pretty

"He unconsciously leans closer to her as he says it and delights in the soft clench of her jaw he catches, the flex of her fingers over her arms as the words roll over her." - Krem and Harding find each other in a world torn apart. A story told in brief glimpses.

"Well, what the hell's buggered up your arse?" Krem is eyeing Iron Bull suspiciously as the Qunari rolls his shoulders and twists his neck to relieve the strain of his muscles.

They are standing at the edge of the southern camp of the Emerald Graves, where the rest of the Chargers and Harding's scouts mill about, waiting for the Inquisitor to finish stocking potions before heading out further into the sunlit plains. Krem is about to wish his commander good luck before heading back into camp to find the rest of the Chargers when he catches the Qunari's weary sigh and stiff movements. He crosses his arms and quirks a brow as the question leaves his lips.

Bull stretches his arms back and levels a devilish grin Krem's way. "Nothing you want to hear about I'm sure."

Krem shakes his head, but the hint of a smile is tugging on his lips. "You're probably right on that count, boss. I don't think anyone wants to hear about your arse."

Bull catches sight of Dorian walking past them with the Inquisitor and Varric, heading for the north exit of camp. He turns to give Krem a two finger salute and winks, his head nodding back to the Tevinter mage several feet behind him. "Ah, look, there goes my reason now."

Krem rolls his eyes. "You're shameless, you know that?"

Bull hoists his battle axe to rest over his shoulder as he turns to leave with the Inquisitor's party. "Yeah, but at least the demands of my Qun are being satisfied, if you know what I mean." He lifts his eyebrows meaningfully to something behind Krem before heading out and the warrior turns to find Harding walking up the grassy path toward them. He cannot help the slight flush of anger that he feels, even when he knows Harding is too far away to have heard. Krem turns back to Bull's retreating form, arms uncrossed suddenly, as he calls out "I hope he blinds you with his…sparkles," he finishes haltingly, his fingers waving about at the glinting reflection of Dorian's robes.

Bull only waves a hand over his shoulder in farewell, his back still to Krem, and he knows the Qunari is chuckling quietly to himself.

"Isn't Dorian just so…pretty?" Harding sighs from beside him.

Krem nearly jumps at her sudden proximity, and then catches her words, grumbling as he turns to watch the Inquisitor's party moving further away. He runs a hand through his hair. "Maker, not you, too." His voice is an exasperated sigh.

Harding's eyes do not move from the mage growing smaller in the distance, her gaze steady and entranced. "I don't know why but he's just got this air about him. All pleasant and pretty things, you know?"

Krem quirks a brow in her direction, his arms crossing over his chest. "You know, he's not the only Tevinter around."

Harding continues obliviously, a smile easily following her words. "Like, whenever I see him, I just think 'crumpets and ribbons'."

Krem looks back out to the retreating forms, a hand rising to brush against his upper lip in thought. "It's the 'stache, isn't it?"

Harding seems to blink back to the present, turning to find Krem musing after the Inquisitor's party, his fingers alighting just over his mouth. She cannot contain her giggle at the sight.

Krem turns his gaze to her giggle and lowers his hand from his mouth. "What?" he asks warily.

Harding's arms come up to cross over her chest, her grin broad across her face. "There is such a thing as 'too pretty'. For my tastes at least."

He doesn't know why her words should make him bold, but there is the slightest lace of a challenge to his tone when he speaks, his words low and dangerously inviting. "That so?" He unconsciously leans closer to her as he says it and delights in the soft clench of her jaw he catches, the flex of her fingers over her arms as the words roll over her.

She narrows her eyes at him slightly, cocking her head back in a nonchalant lean as she looks up at him. "Don't worry, Krem. I'm not his type. Besides, it takes more than a pretty face to get my knees wobbly." Her lashes flutter minutely over her green eyes, crinkled in a wicked promise.

Krem pulls back a bit, his whole body flushed with an unfamiliar tingling. "'Don't worry'? What's there to worry about? I'm not worried. This is a worry free zone, lady." He cuts a hand through the air as though to signify it. He regrets it immediately, straightening his back and clearing his throat. He licks his lips as the mortification slowly creeps over him.

Harding simply watches him with a raised brow. "Uh-huh."

Krem swallows thickly and turns to look around the camp, his voice forcibly louder and surer. "Don't you have work to do?" He adjusts the holster for his weapon along his back in rich anxiety.

"Yep," she confirms cheerily. "Want to help?"

Krem looks back down to her and finds nothing teasing in her gaze anymore, only a patient hope and excitement. He finds the sentiment warm and enthralling in his own gut. He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Why not?" he chuckles.

They set off together, sharing a pace they seemed to have been walking their whole lives without knowing.