Hawke waited with Aveline and Anders while Isabela scouted ahead. Someday they would get the Docks cleared of thugs and gangs and safe to walk at night, but that time had yet to come.
After having had her face pounded into a wall the night before, Hawke was ready to try some more unusual tactics.
She was just about to peek around the corner to see if something had gone awry when Isabela tapped her on the shoulder. She jumped and rounded on the other rogue, hissing, "I told you not to do that!"
Isabela sniggered unapologetically. "Just keeping you on your toes," she whispered. "And so far you suck at it."
Hawke resisted the urge to deck her. "Well? What did you see?"
"Slavers. A good half dozen, with more thinking they're being sneaky up on the rooftop."
"Do you think the plan will work?" Hawke asked.
"Oh, yes," Isabela said with a wicked smirk. "Definitely. If there's one thing slavers have a good eye for, it's flesh."
All three women turned their attention to Anders, who shifted uncomfortably and adjusted the strap down the center of his chest that was almost the only thing covering his upper body from nipples to neck.
"Ladies, please. I haven't done anything like this since Justice," he protested weakly.
Hawke nodded to Aveline, who propelled him forward with a strong hand in the middle of his back.
"Go, go!" Hawke urged, grinning like a maniac. "And remember what we said about the shimmy - make it spicy!"