A/N: This chapter contains sexual content.

"Now there's an idea," Isabela said as she wiped streaks of mascara off her face with my handkerchief. "I've never been to Tantervale. You think I could be in movies, Trip?"

"I think you can do anything you put your mind to." We were strolling slowly back towards Isabela's car. When we got there, the others were already waiting for us.

"We took the mages down the tracks a way," Anders said as he handed me back my coat. "They'll be able to jump on the next train before it picks up speed."

"I certainly hope so," I said. "I don't want to see any of them again. Buffoons, the lot of them."

"I ruined my stockings for them," Isabela said, "I hope they're grateful."

"I can't believe you let them go," Fenris growled. "They were blood mages. Their leader tried to kill you."

"The mages who attacked us are dead," I said wearily. "The others deserved their shot at freedom."

"You do not even have the excuse of ignorance," Fenris snarled.

"As what amounts to an ex-prisoner, neither do you," Anders said sharply. "Trip is trying to do what's right. People should be free."

There was nothing Fenris liked more, apparently, than arguing with Anders. "Abominations and blood mages have renounced their humanity. They are hunted down like dogs, and as they should be."

Horse whined enquiringly.

"Sorry," Fenris said absently to the dog, before turning his attention back to Anders. "Mages have proved time and time again that they cannot be trusted. At the smallest chance, they seize power, and the things they do with it are terrible."

"The things that are done to them are terrible! Can you blame them for being angry? It's people like you and attitudes like yours that are responsible, not mages."

"Are they always like this?" Isabela asked.

"Pretty much. Come on, fellas, it's late. Let's head home." I probably should have kept my mouth shut. Both Fenris and Anders turned and glared at me.

"How can you just stand there and let him say these things?" Anders asked. "You can't possibly agree with him."

"Dammit, Anders. That bastard tried to kill us tonight. Maybe you've been on the receiving end before, but I haven't. I don't blame people for being scared of us. I don't have to like it, but there it is."

"Then why did you help them?" Fenris asked. "You saw what was going on. We could have sent them back to the circle."

"See? He wants us all locked up."

"Tell him that he asks for the impossible."

I looked from one to the other, my patience finally at an end. "Will you both shut up? You," I pointed at Anders, "are idealistic. And you," I swung my finger towards Fenris, "are inflexible. I can see both sides. Until you can as well, there is no point talking to either of you about it."

"Now listen-"

"But Trip-" They both started and stopped talking at the same moment, while I folded my arms.

"I'm going home," I declared.

"I'll give you a lift," Isabela said. "All of you, of course."

Anders shook his head, "I need to get in contact with the underground and tell them the mages have gone."

"I'm walking," Fenris said flatly and lit a smoke as he stalked off.

I sighed, and ushered Horse into the back seat of Isabela's car.

Isabela shot me an amused glance as we drove back to Lowtown, "They were fighting over you like stags in the spring."

"That's not really… can you put it a different way?" I asked.

"Like bulls, over a cow."

"No!"

"Like mabari over a bi-"

"Isabela!"

She laughed. "You need a drink. On me."

"Yeah, all right."

Isabela was as good as her word. When we returned to the Hanged Man, she made a beeline for the bar and ordered two shots of the Hanged Man's finest rotgut. She winked at me and downed hers, and being the sort of gent I am I felt obligated to follow suit.

How anyone drinks that stuff on a regular basis amazes me.

I managed not to choke, and once I'd regained most of my senses, pleasant warmth had settled in my stomach.

I politely declined a second drink while Isabela ordered another.

"You don't have to worry, you know. About me and the whole, mage thing. I don't think anyone should be locked up." She gazed a bit dreamily at the smoky ceiling, "I think everyone should be free to live the way they want. I was married for a while and that was bad enough, believe me. I can't imagine being stuck in a circle."

"Neither can I," I said, helping myself to some peanuts then remembering where I was and thinking better of eating them.

"So you were never in the circle?"

"Nope."

"Nice work. I guess that explains a lot. So," she put a hand on my arm, "can you do that electricity-"

"No," I said shortly.

She looked at me with big eyes, "No?"

"In the circle, a mage doesn't have to hide. Everyone knows. As an apostate, I just have to screw up once and the secret is out. I don't use my magic unless I have no other choice." I didn't really like talking about this stuff, but it was kind of hard to stop. Isabela seemed to get it in a way Fenris and Anders didn't. "When Bethany and I were children, we had to move a lot. I don't really remember most of the villages we lived in. We learned to make friends quickly and not miss them too much when we had to move on."

"Aw," Isabela kicked off her other shoe. She didn't seem to notice the odd looks she got in her laddered stockings and torn dress. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"I'm not upset, really." I smiled at her.

"Good. Let's dance anyway. Anyone who goes out with me is guaranteed a good time."

I chuckled, "I'll bet."

Isabela was a better dancer than Merrill. Better than me, for certain, although she seemed pretty happy in my arms. She asked me where I'd learned, but I didn't feel like referring to ghosts for the second time that night. When Bethany was about twelve, she wanted to be an actress, or a dancer, and I was old enough to figure out that girls liked fellas who could dance. So after our chores were done, we'd practice in the living room while Carver rolled his eyes at us.

It wasn't the kind of story I wanted to tell Isabela; her imagination would come up with a much more exciting version, I was sure. For some reason, she seemed to think I was the bee's knees.

I had no intention of correcting her.

The dance floor was starting to empty; The Hanged Man stayed open until dawn, but few had the stamina to remain that long. For some reason, Isabela and I didn't take advantage of the extra space.

"You want another drink?" Isabela asked.

"I'd rather keep my wits about me." I could feel her heartbeat under my fingers resting on her lower back.

"Worried it might take a toll on your performance?" She was grinning at me.

"Hell no." I pulled her closer and now I wasn't sure if it was her heartbeat or mine I could feel in my chest.

"Ooh, using such language in front of a lady. I thought you were a gentleman."

"Only before midnight."

"Midnight was a long time ago, baby."

We weren't even really dancing anymore, instead merely swaying to the music I could barely hear above the blood in my ears, our arms wrapped around each other. I'd forgotten about mages, and Fenris's stupid arguments with Anders, or even what had happened to Horse (I'd left him waiting faithfully outside the front door, and the bouncers took a liking to him; when I returned he was almost spherical from all the scraps they'd given him and he spent the rest of the day sleeping it off.) All I could think about was the unspoken promise Isabela had made with her eyes and her lips on the fire escape the night before.

I had an idea she was thinking about the same thing.

She took my arm without another word and we strolled off the dance floor, upstairs to her room.

The door shut behind us with a solid click, and she leaped on me. I should have been expecting it, but the sheer ferocity of her attack caught me off-guard and we stumbled and staggered and snogged and eventually tumbled onto the bed in a tangle of limbs and slightly breathless giggling.

"Off!" she commanded, throwing my ruined coat halfway across the room like it was hot.

"Not so fast," I caught one of her hands while the other pulled free of my grasp and started untucking my shirt. We wrestled. And she won, with moves that I consider completely illegal, totally distracting, and absolutely delightful. She pulled my shirt right over my head and I fell off the side of the bed.

Isabela burst out laughing, "The look on your face."

"How do you know this wasn't part of my plan?" I asked.

"I'll bite," she promised. "What now?"

I tugged one of her legs towards me and she obliged.

"Don't hurt yourself," she warned me as slid my fingers up her thigh, and curled them over the edge of her garter. She still had her daggers equipped and despite my distraction I hadn't forgotten them. Her stockings were torn and laddered by her barefoot adventures in the train yard and the Hanged Man. They were silk too; it was a real shame, I reflected, as I slid them off her smooth brown legs.

"You got any more knives hidden in your underwear?" I asked.

She grinned at me, "You'll just have to find out, won't you?"

She gasped as I bit gently on the inside of her leg, all the way down to her ankle. And then I started working my way back up the other leg, Isabela unclipping things and wiggling under her dress. I appreciate that; taking of a doll's stockings is fun; messing about with all those little clips on a brassiere only so if you're taking things slow.

We'd been at this little game since last night; that's slow enough.

I hitched Isabela's shift dress a bit higher on her hips. It was torn and dusty, and I kind of liked it; it promised the girl inside to be something special, if I didn't already know that.

I licked my lips and felt Isabela cross her ankles over my back.

"I thought you weren't a gentleman after midnight?" she asked breathily, looking at me through half-closed eyelids.

I grinned at her, "How do you know I won't stop?" I asked.

"You'd better not," she warned.

I did. Stop, I mean. She swore at me, her toes curling and breathless moans being torn from her throat.

Oh Peaches, you received and never gave, but I learned such a lot from you.

I crawled up onto the bed, pulling off the rest of my clothes as I did so. She wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled me down onto her, biting and sucking at my mouth.

I raised myself on my arm and slid her torn dress off her shoulder. I couldn't think of any other girl I knew ripping her clothes like that. Her white teeth scraped over her bottom lip as she grinned at me.

"Go on," she breathed, her eyes sparkling. "You want to, don't you?"

I did.

I knelt between her legs and ripped the rest of her dress, splitting it right down to the hem as she purred with delight. She arched her back and shrugged off her brassiere. I realised I was staring like a fool. Isabela had the kind of figure a man could taste once and die happy.

So I did. Well, not once, and I didn't die, but I was very, very happy. Isabela was too. She tilted her head back and stroked my hair.

"Oh, yes," she sighed.

I was still on my hands and knees above her, and she reached up with her arms and legs and pulled herself up against me, letting me take all her weight. She wrapped her legs around my hips and that was an invitation I don't think anyone in the world would have the willpower to refuse. She sank her teeth into my left earlobe as she wiggled around me. I gritted my teeth and locked my arms as she manoeuvred us closer until there was no distance at all. Negative distance. She was all around me, slick and hot. It was torturous; she started rocking her hips and my arms were beginning to protest at the strain. But I wouldn't give in until she did. Somehow. She clung to me, her breath hot on my skin as she whispered breathy and filthy endearments with a delighted grin.

I couldn't hold us both up forever, but I didn't have to. She was digging her nails into my back and making considerable noise within a couple of minutes, and shortly after that I collapsed on top of her holding her underneath me as she let whoever was next door know exactly what my name was, over and over.

I didn't care. I rolled off her so we could catch our breath.

"You know what I love about younger men?" she asked dreamily, stroking my cheek.

"Huh?" I raised my head and looked at her.

She rolled over and slithered over onto me and sat on my stomach, "Aww, poor Sleepy. You'll find out." She rested her elbows on my chest and kissed my chin.

Twenty minutes later, I was pretty sure I wasn't going to get any sleep at all.

She was the most insatiable woman I'd ever met. We climbed all over each other, and she left bite marks on my neck and shoulders, and scratches down my back. If there was anyone in the rooms next to us they didn't get any sleep either. I wasn't sure if I was being broken in or allowed to run wild.

Dusty Kirkwall sunlight was streaming through the slats in the shutters when peace descended. Isabela got out of bed, naked as the day she was born, and I watched her stretch before she padded off to the bathroom. I heard the taps squeak on, and I dozed while she showered.

I opened my eyes again when she flopped back on the bed, wrapped in a towel.

"Pass me a smoke?" she asked.

I fumbled around on the bedside table and helped myself to one before passing one over and lighting it for her.

"Just so we're clear," she said carefully. "This doesn't mean anything. This was a bit of fun, and it sated my curiosity. But it doesn't go any further than that, you understand?"

I raised an eyebrow at her, "Do you give this speech to all the fellas?"

She laughed, "Just the romantics. There are fewer of those than you might think."

I was going to argue about it, but then thought better of it. "Yeah, all right."

"Huh!" She propped herself up on her elbows and looked at me, eyebrows raised in surprise. "I wasn't expecting that."

To tell the truth, I wasn't either. Isabela was pretty much perfect, and her imperfections were the kind I liked. But she was just a couple months too late to steal my heart. "Why not?"

"You strike me as the kind of man who makes his mind up and then doesn't give up until he gets what he wants."

"That doesn't mean I'll ever get what I want."

She shrugged and flopped back against her pillow. "I got what I want, and that's what matters."

In the warm and slightly gritty light of morning, I was starting to feel, well, guilty. It didn't take a genius to work out why, either. Maker's Breath, Fenris. Stop ruining my love-life all the way from Hightown. This sort of thing is healthy for a single fella.

And at this rate, I was likely to remain one.

"Hey, Isabela," I said. "You're very, um, knowledgeable. Have you ever, you know, with another girl?"

"Of course I have. Girls are lovely; as I'm sure you'll agree. Why? You should have said something if you wanted someone else to join in last night."

"No, that's not. I mean, that's interesting." Very interesting. "But that's not what I'm getting at. I mean, most girls like fellas, right. And fellas like girls. So, how do you know if a girl would want that sorta thing?"

"How do you ever find out if a girl would want that sort of thing? You flirt with her and you ask her. I don't think you need help getting girls, Trip." Suddenly she sat up and looked at me, a grin on her face. "Oh, I get it. You're goofy over a fella, ain'tcha? That's why you took my speech so well."

I scowled at her.

"Is it Anders?" she asked excitedly. "Cause he's got it bad for you, I'll tell you what."

"What? Really?" That couldn't be right. "No, he's getting over someone else. Besides, his idea of a fun time is distributing pamphlets to the workers." And Fenris's idea of a good time would probably be throwing rocks at mages. Why don't I have any normal friends?

"Varric? Ooh, that chest hair would be enough to turn anyone." She laughed at my expression.

"I think I should be heading home," I said abruptly. "I need to wash my dog."

Isabela just kept chuckling at me. It really was rather irritating.

"My advice is still good," she said, watching me pull on my trousers. "Give it a try. What have you got to lose, really?"