Merrill went home to change, and so I decided to take Horse with me and walk over to The Hanged Man. As long as we went directly to Varric's suite, they wouldn't object to the mabari. As Varric had pointed out, he was better trained than a lot of their customers.
I met Anders on the street outside and it was incredibly awkward. We hadn't spoken or seen each other since the night he made a pass at me. He sort of flinched as I approached.
"Hello," I said.
"Hello," he said.
Horse sniffed Anders' knees and sneezed. Probably cat hairs.
"How have you been?" I asked him.
"About as you might expect," he retorted. He relented almost instantly, "I'll be fine. Part of life, isn't it? I just hope nothing's going to change between us." He regarded me with a worried expression.
"Of course not," I told him, although I wasn't convinced. I wasn't looking forward to Anders' reaction should he discover who his rival was. But I'd deal with that particular disaster when it eventuated; frankly, if a relationship with Fenris ever got to the public announcement stage, I didn't think there was anything Anders could possibly say or do to upset it.
Anders stopped at the bar to order a drink, while I went straight up to see Varric. Isabela and Aveline were already there, bantering coolly about the Prohibition. It was actually one of the few things they agreed was a bad idea, but each for completely different reasons.
Fenris was lounging in a chair near the fire. He caught my eye and we smiled uncertainly at each other for a moment before hiding behind more neutral expressions. Or trying to. He'd smiled at me. No second thoughts. It was a dizzyingly joyful feeling.
Varric came out of the bathroom and settled in his favourite chair. I told him Merrill was on her way, and that she'd had a rough day.
"What happened?" Isabela asked.
"Clan business," I said. "They were picking on her again, and someone she knew died."
"Poor kitten."
"Did she bring it on herself?" Fenris asked.
"No, no she didn't."
By the time the gathering was complete, we all had drinks of one kind or another and Varric had ordered a tray of snacks that I tried not to eat all by myself. Horse stretched out in front of the fire and Aveline sat on the floor, scratching him behind the ears.
"I suppose you're all wondering why I've asked you here today," Varric said. His smile faded. "To be honest, I don't really want to discuss it, but as we learned from last time, if one of us gets into trouble the others will hurl themselves into it as well without a second thought. I don't want anyone else getting hurt on my account."
That made us all sit up and take notice.
"So here it is," Varric continued. "Bartrand got his payout from the insurance company, but after the crackdown on the Carta, no one came to collect for a month and a half. So, like the genius he is, he started spending it. Now the Carta's back on its feet, it's calling in its debts."
"So we're back to square one?" I asked.
"Not quite. We can pay off some of it. Bartrand didn't mange to spend the lot."
"I don't see why that's a problem," Aveline said. "You won't get anywhere pandering to criminals. Tell us where they are, and we'll take care of them."
"It's not that simple, Aveline," Varric said. "The Carta is a dwarven institution. If we managed to scare them off in Kirkwall, plenty of my family still live in Orzammar. They don't have to threaten us directly here. Even you won't wipe the Carta out of Dust Town."
"So what do you need us to do?" Fenris asked.
"Nothing! It's not your problem." He glanced at Merrill, "But the last time I tried to keep my problems to myself, people nearly got killed. Now you know you don't have to sneak around. And if you come up with any good ideas to make money, I'll hear 'em."
"I've got one," Isabela said brightly. "It'll take a bit of planning-"
"No," Aveline said. "Whatever it is, just no."
"Spoilsport," Isabela pouted.
"The mining companies still have a reward out on that dragon that closed the mines in the hills a few months ago," Fenris suggested.
We fell silent, considering the idea.
"It's a good thought, Fenris, but I think it's a bit beyond us," I said. There were relieved nods. Fenris shrugged; apparently he wasn't afraid of dragons.
"I suppose I could sell the motor," Merrill offered.
"No." Varric frowned, "I'm not looking for donations. I'm just telling you so we won't have a repeat of last time. Now, why don't we order something more substantial to eat before Hero starts chewing on the furniture?"
Varric refused to discuss it further for the rest of the evening, and we all eventually went home. I didn't have any bright ideas – if I had, I would have tried them already on my own behalf.
I still thought it should be Bartrand's problem alone, but if the Carta were holding the rest of the Tethras family to ransom, Varric had no choice but to involve himself. Again. I did my best to come up with something over the week, but by the time Andrasday rolled around again, I was still exactly where I'd started.
Fenris and I unrolled the rugs we practiced on in Fenris's living room. He'd found them in the attic as the ones there originally had been reduced to charcoal.
"Have you come up with anything to help Varric?" I asked, sitting on a chair to take my shoes off as Fenris stretched and rolled his shoulders. Distractingly, I might add.
"Nothing legal," he said. "Your living proof of how difficult it is to make money honestly in this town."
I scowled. He had a point. "Well, I'm not fighting a dragon. Not unless we somehow enlist Flemeth and her flying machine to help."
"Who?" He watched me unbutton my shirt. "And what? A flying machine?"
"It's a true story. I'll tell you over lunch," I promised.
We started sparring. For us, quite badly. Guards weren't raised quite fast enough, opportunities were missed. I caught Fenris's punch, and deflected it, sending him staggering past me and almost into a wall. A clear point of advantage.
"Concentrate," I smirked, as he regained his stance and raised his guard.
His upper lip curled. He obviously took my advice to heart because he did unto me what I'd done unto him, but with a great deal more grace, and put me on the floor.
"Concentrate- whoa!" He was probably smirking as he moved away to let me stand up, but I was watching his feet not his face, and when he was on one foot I lashed out with one of my own into his knee and this time sent him sprawling. "Bastard," he hissed at me, his eyes alight but not angry.
I laughed at him. I hadn't even bothered to get up off the floor. Fenris did though. He regained his feet as fast as a cat and launched himself at me. I had good enough reflexes and just enough time to brace myself before he landed, a knee either side of my hips.
Wrestling, huh? This was new. Normally I'd have the advantage, but I supposed he thought he had me off-guard. He tried to pin my hands by grabbing my wrists, and I resisted valiantly. We bared our teeth at each other, muscles straining. Somehow I still had the desire, but not the breath, to laugh.
The stalemate could have gone on indefinitely, but I got one of my feet under me, and shoved sideways, trying to roll us both. Fenris instantly relented and used my own momentum to roll us again, practically throwing me right over him. I managed to get a hand free and we thrashed about, trying to find an advantage. We rolled off the rug and onto the hardwood floor, but we didn't stop until we had nowhere else to go.
My side hit the wall with a thud, and after a further scuffle, Fenris grinned triumphantly down at me as he pinned my hands across my chest. I didn't really care, and I didn't try to fight him off any further. Didn't exactly relax, neither.
We panted in each other's faces, trying to regain our breath.
"You know," I said finally, "if you'd wanted to sit in my lap you coulda just said. You're always welcome."
His jaw dropped, his eyes widened, and he flushed right to the roots of his hair. But he didn't move. I guess he couldn't really miss how welcome he was, but he didn't seem all that put off by it. He frowned, "I'm a man-"
"I'd noticed." I flicked my gaze down and back up again.
"Trip!" He scowled and tried to push my arms into my chest as I laughed.
"I yield, I yield! What are you gonna do now?"
His grip on my wrists loosened. "I don't know." I could see the lyrium lines on his neck move as he swallowed. "I think-"
I never did find out what Fenris thought, because someone had the ill manners to bang on the front door. And the front door opened, like it usually did when it wasn't treated with due care and attention.
"Fenris, are you home?" I recognised that voice.
Fenris jumped about a foot in the air, like a scalded cat. Before I'd had time to draw breath he was halfway across the room. I groaned and curled up slightly, rolling over onto my side as Isabela bounced into the room.
"So the rumours are true," she said gleefully. "You two do spend every Andrasday morning naked boxing."
"Do we look naked to you?" I asked, crawling back onto the rug.
"Nowhere near naked enough," she sighed sadly. "Anyway, don't let me interrupt if you're in the middle of something."
"It's a bit late for that," Fenris said sourly. "I don't recall inviting you. Or even telling you my address."
"There aren't that many fire-gutted mansions in Hightown," she pointed out. She sat at the table and helped herself to a smoke from the pocket of my coat that was draped over a chair.
I'd calmed down enough that I could get to my feet and I did so, running my hands through my hair and brushing the dust off the back of my arms and shoulders as best I could. Fenris remained haunting the corner, his metaphorical fur still on end.
"Are you here for a reason?" I asked Isabela. "Or were you just curious."
She took her time answering, lighting her smoke and enjoying the view. I flexed my biceps in her general direction and she grinned. Fenris just looked self-conscious.
"I had an idea for helping Varric," she said.
"We're not robbing any banks," I said firmly.
"Perish the thought, Trip. Where do you get these ideas? At most we'd be stealing something that's not rightfully owned in the first place. The money would be freely given and rightfully earned."
"Alright, I'm listening," I said. "It can't hurt to hear it."
She turned to Fenris, "Have you any idea what kind of reward is on your head?" she asked.
"Has it gone up again?" he asked, folding his arms and leaning against the wall.
"The Tevinter Secret Service has put an open bounty on your head for five hundred gold dead and a thousand gold alive. That oughtta pay Varric's debt and then some." She leaned back in her chair and smoked triumphantly.
That was a lot of dough, I had to admit. But there were some problems with getting our hands on it. "Yes, but that would involve handing Fenris back to the Imperium," I pointed out. "Something I hope we can all agree would be a bad idea."
"Well we wouldn't let them keep him," she said. "We'd get the cash, and snatch him back. They'd be back where they started and we'd be a thousand gold richer."
"It's awfully risky," I pointed out.
"But it would work," Fenris said.
I turned and looked at him, "You're game for this?"
"Of course he is," Isabela said with a grin. "One last chance to stiff his old masters? Who wouldn't be up for that?"
"I have seen you outwit a Magister before," Fenris pointed out. "And if this draws Denarius out of hiding, so much the better."
"We'd need a really good plan," I said. "They're not going to be happy once this is all over. I'd rather not be on a Tevinter kill list by this time next week."
Isabela flicked a stray strand of hair out of her eyes, "Don't you worry, Trip. Really good plans are my speciality. We'll cook up a story, make a show of capturing our flighty elf, and conduct the handover somewhere with a home ground advantage."
"And round up all the help we can get," I added.
"Don't put your shirt on just yet, Hawke, I need to measure you up for some disguises," Isabela winked. "You as well, Fenris."
"Why would I need a disguise?" Fenris asked.
"Well, you don't. But it couldn't hurt, could it?" She produced a tape measure from her purse and held it up enticingly.
Fenris caught my eye for a moment and shook his head as he went to fetch some glasses. We had a lot of planning to do. Our wrestling match would have to wait.