Nothing but a short little chapter about the agents having a night off.

Chapter 4: Getting Situated

Part 2: Comradery in the Tavern

Various perspectives, 9:18 PM, Skyhold Tavern

-and then he said, 'that's no Genlock, that's my wife!'" Jovkus finished his punchline accompanied by the uproar of those gathered. Mugs were slammed in jest, ribs were tickled, and the general merriment of the agents was palpable. Collins stood up to get a refill of ale at the bar when he was intercepted by Anais, who, by the way she was stumbling about, was quite drunk.

"Well if it isn't our little lovebird," Anais taunted sultrily, "Have you and the other little bird made a nest yet?" with that the elf gestured to the lone Dalish sitting in the corner of the main hall with her foot tapping to the rhythm of the music being played.

"You've had far too much to drink," Collins said as he tried to hide his blush and ordered a refill from the bartender.

"Nope,"

"Nope?" Collins couldn't help but ask.

"Nope, there's no such thing as too much drinking," Anais said jovially.

"Say that you Saareba," Collins stated matter-of-factly while gesturing to the passed out Kossith drooling on the table.

"Sara?" Anais questioned, "Meh, she's a lightweight,"

"There's no such thing as a lightweight Qunari," Collins pointed out with hopeless jest.

"Anyway, go talk to her at least," Anais insisted with a playful push on his shoulder.

"Why are you so interested in me having a love life?" Collins asked irritably.

"Because the author ships you two,"

"What?" Collins questioned.

"You know, the dwarf," Anais elaborated before downing another drink.

"Tethras?" Collins scoffed, "That man is the most perverted individual alive,"

"Nope,"

"Nope?"

"Yep," Anais said before muttering something about a pirate queen and strutting off with all the balance that remained in the intoxicated elf.

Meanwhile Madeline merrily sat down beside Caedmon with a large mug of her own. The abomination simply took the mug out her hands and out of her reach, much to the teen's pout.

Aniel, Osmond, and Jovkus where currently throwing silverware at a target board mounted on the wall, guess who was winning.

"By The Stone, you're less sober then me," the dwarf grumbled, "How you do it?"

Aniel simply shrugged as he downed another shot of whisky, "Lots. Of. 'Hick' practice,"

He then buried two forks and a spoon into the bull's-eye with one toss of his hand.

"A mask, a use for that which is hidden in plain sight, the fear of those who might find out, a churning of unease," The elf, dwarf and human turned to see a thin figure wearing a large hat standing beside them.

"What drabble are you spouting about," Jovkus grumbled, unaware of Aniel's nervousness at the figure's words.

"He holds secrets, fearful of others opinions, of betrayal and misunderstanding," The figure said with a soft voice.

"Whatever," Aniel stated, "I'm getting another drink," as Aniel said this; Osmond and Jovkus watched him heading for the bar.

"Want another drink?" Osmond offered.

"Thought you'd never ask," The dwarf replied, having completely forgotten the figure that was gone now.

Everyone eventually gathered around Gerard and Heraclian. The half-blind Templar and old Tevinter mage sat opposite each other at a table with several shot glasses between them.

Heraclian reached for a glass filled with the amber liquid, brought it up to his lips, and downed the glass in one fell swoop. He then placed the glass back down before gesturing to Gerard.

Everyone turned to the Templar, who had downed about a dozen glasses before. But he grabbed his glass and downed it as well.

He then passed out.