A/N: Finley and Cullen's first meeting did not go smoothly.
...-...
There was a dull throbbing in his temples and an awful pressure just behind his eyes that promised to flourish into a full blown headache if his day didn't start going better, and yet it didn't seem that that anything could actually make the day better.
The Divine was dead, the conclave ruined, some no name apostate found in the ruins as the only survivor—they couldn't even close the Breach properly—and this blasted table would not stop wobbling.
Even as Cullen hit his knees, testing the table with a bit more force than necessary to see which damned leg needed something shoved under it, he heard the door behind him open.
Boots scuffed to a stop.
Silence.
If the person coming in was someone who was supposed to be delivering a message, they would have said something by now. The same was true if they were someone who was supposed to be in there.
Turning so that he could peer over his shoulder, Cullen stopped when he saw the young woman standing in the doorway, staring down at him with wide eyes.
Their—as the rumors said—Herald of Andraste.
He'd seen her twice, once when she was found in the wreckage and once when they brought her back from attempting to close the Breach. Both times she'd been unconscious, both times she'd been a mess, clothes torn and bloodied, hair all wild tangles.
He'd…somewhat expected her to look a little neater conscious.
"You needn't stand in the doorway…" Cassandra's voice came from behind her, and the apostate just about had a heart attack, whirling to the side so that she could keep both of them in her line of sight. She cringed away from Cassandra when the woman tried to put a hand on her shoulder, and he could see that Cassandra looked like she was having a hard time of dealing with her at all.
Leliana and Josephine slipped in after Cassandra, the apostate sticking close to the wall as though they might toss her on the table and skewer her at any second.
After a short silence, Josephine slipped over to where the skittish woman stood, eyes still wide as saucers, giving them a rather clear view of her magic-distorted irises. It made Cullen uneasy to see them.
Josephine offered the woman a short curtsey and a wide smile, as though she weren't being watched like some sort of vile predator. "It is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance…Finley, yes?"
"…Yes."
The word was barely a whisper.
Smile never faltering, Josephine spun just enough so that she was facing the rest of the group, "Now then, I believe you have already met Cassandra and Leliana?" A timid nod. "Well, then. The only other introduction to make, assuming he has not done so already, would be Commander Cullen Rutherford, leader of the Inquisition's armies."
Cullen didn't realize he'd been properly introduced until Josephine repeated his name and gave him a warning look. Coughing, he cleared his throat, stood quickly—too quickly, for he bumped the table and sent half a dozen markers teetering, if not outright falling over—and offered a hand to the woman. "It's a pleasure…"
He wasn't sure what to call her. Herald? Finley? The way she was eyeing him, the latter seemed far too casual, too invasive of her private space.
When she simply stared at him, making no move to take his hand, he slowly lowered it and turned to face the war table as Leliana began to explain their current predicament.
Maker help him, but his headache was going to win out.