A/N: just a quickie to say thank you for Following and Favoriting *gushes*
P.S. I don't know why my Hawke is such an asshole, but I'm loving the idea and running with it like a kid with a pair of really sharp scissors XP
Chapter Three: Tepid Brew
The Hanged Man wasn't as exciting as Hrodwynn had led herself to believe. It was hot, stuffy, and smelled of the worst sort of filth and uncleanliness she had ever encountered. And that was saying something for a girl who lived in Darktown. There were piles in the corners where the stuff had been pushed out of the way, and stains on the wooden floor and tables where it hadn't been pushed away fast enough. She supposed that's why everyone drank themselves into a stupor, so they wouldn't continue to smell the piss and vomit and… she didn't want to think what else.
She had trouble with the noise, too. The patrons had had plenty of time for drinking already, and they seemed to have to increase the volume of their voices with the level of their drunkenness. There were a lot of people in the tavern—enough so that, by the time she arrived in the late afternoon, she was almost palpably hit with a wall of noise as soon as she opened the door.
Pushing through the crowd, she quickly spied Carver and Varric sitting at a table with three women. There was no sign of Hawke, but she hid her disappointment—she had tried coming a little later, hoping he would be there and she could just get her money and leave. But seeing how Carver was smiling up at her, and Varric gesturing a welcome grandly with his arms, she decided she could sit and wait for Hawke.
"Kitten! Glad you could join us. I was beginning to worry about you," Varric beamed at her, his face a little flushed.
"I, ah," she hedged, fighting her own battle to keep the pink off her cheeks—though for very different reasons—as she slid down on the bench next to Carver. "I had something else to… do today… that took longer than I thought… it would." Yup, that sounded lame to her ears, but it seemed no one else noticed. Varric waved the excuse aside and began pointing out the others, starting with the woman sitting at the end of the table, on the other side of Carver.
"Let's get you introduced to everyone. We'll start with Isabela. Captain of the…"
"Former Captain, if you don't mind," she interrupted before taking a large swig from her mug.
"Right, excuse me. Formerly of the Siren's Call. That was a pirate ship, in case you hadn't heard of it." His whisper was so loud, she was sure the whole tavern had been able to hear it. Fortunately, no one took notice of their conversation. Even Isabela seemed unconcerned over her 'former' illegal profession being bantered around.
"Next we have Aveline," Varric sighed, indicating the woman between himself and Isabela. He reached an arm out of sight behind her back, and something he did made her jump and elbow him in the side. He was laughing as he finished, "The Captain of the City Guard."
"Oh, she has a pirate ship, too?" the third woman asked, sitting at the other end of the table from Isabela. She was holding her mug to her face, her voice echoing inside the clay vessel.
Carver and Isabela laughed, Aveline sighed, and Varric shook his head sadly, "No, Daisy, the City Guard what patrols the city. This is Merrill, by the way, a Dalish Mage we've sort of picked up."
"Pleased to meet you," she hiccoughed, holding out her hand. Hrodwynn took it, smiling warmly and liking the silly elf from the start.
"Everyone, this is Hrodwynn, a little rogue after my own heart. Can pick a Siggerdson lock blindfolded, or so she claims."
"Interesting," hummed Isabela, a crafty look sparking in her eyes.
"I don't need to hear this," moaned Aveline, making the former pirate laugh. "Where's Hawke? He should have been here hours ago. I can't spend all day waiting for him before we discuss…"
"He said he had a stop to make on his way here," broke in Carver. By the surliness of his tone, he wasn't happy over wherever his brother had gone. "Excuse me, but I'm going to refill my mug. Anyone else up for another round?"
"Me!" agreed Varric, taking a moment to pick up his mug and down it in one go. "Since you offered to buy."
Carver rolled his eyes, but took the mug. "Anyone else? You, Hrodwynn?"
"Oh, ah," she hesitated for only half a heartbeat, "Sure, whatever you're having."
Aveline's eyebrow rose up in a motherly manner, but Isabela hid her smirk behind her mug. "So," the Rivain said as soon as Carver had gone to order the next round. Leaning forward, her ample bosom nearly spilled out onto the table top, momentarily distracting Varric. "Hrodwynn, is it? Sounds Ferelden. I take it the 'H' is silent?"
Hrodwynn had no idea what Isabela was talking about. "Suppose so," she muttered, feeling like everyone was staring at her. "Never gave it much thought, but sometimes it's quiet, sometimes it's not." She felt her cheeks burning, wondering why Varric's eyebrows scrunched and Aveline's stern look softened. Damn, but she hated this feeling, like there was something she was supposed to know, but she couldn't figure out what. It made her feel backwards and stupid, and she knew she was smart—how many others could crack a Siggerdson—but a silent 'aich' was beyond her.
Maybe she meant ache? Ache's didn't make a noise, but you sometimes did when you had an ache. She kept her mouth shut, however, letting the others think what they wanted, Isabela sensing her discomfort and changing the subject.
Maker, but this was getting uncomfortable. She thought about leaving, but she had yet to get paid. Besides, Carver was here, and he was pleasant to be around, even if his brother was an arse. She glanced off to the side, where Carver was gesturing to their table and arguing with the bartender. Apparently she wasn't going to be served, again. Oh, well, at least she had been allowed to stay this time. She was about to get up and tell Carver to forget the drink, when he said the name 'Hawke' loudly enough to reach the table. Apparently he won the argument, as the bartender grudgingly filled a third mug.
Her blush was still fairly pink when he returned with the three mugs, one of which had been under-poured. She accepted it without comment, took a sip of the brew and barely managed to swallow. She didn't find it as appetizing as she had thought it would be, tepid and watered down. But it was the thought that counted, the thought that she was included in their diverse group, and—for one evening at least—she actually felt accepted, even somewhat… happy…? As the evening wore on she sat, one hand wrapped around the clay vessel, the other propping up her chin, smiling and listening to Varric tell stories of how each of them had met.
The dwarf was a natural storyteller.
The tavern was getting crowded, which meant it was getting noisier, and Hrodwynn found herself leaning in closer to Carver to hear better. Then Hawke walked in. She supposed that wasn't surprising, since apparently everyone was there to meet him for some reason or another, but his companion made everyone take notice—everyone in the tavern. Even Hrodwynn found herself staring as a slightly aloof and unsocial Fenris strode uneasily up to their table.
"Everyone?" Hawke called out to them, but she was sure the whole tavern was watching. He seemed to realize this, too, and added a little more flamboyantly, "This is my new friend, Fenris. Everyone say hi," he prompted. After the chorus of greetings rose from the table, he slapped Fenris on the shoulder, the same one that had the wound, and Hrodwynn thought she saw a slight grimace cross his features.
Fenris was taken aback at first; being so readily accepted by strangers was something new to him. He remembered enough of his manners to nod an acknowledgement of their welcome. He stole a glance at Hawke, to get some hint or clue on what to do next, but Hawke had taken a seat between Varric and Aveline, his head bent close to the dwarf's in a private conversation. He was apparently on his own.
Looking around the table, he saw quite an array of characters. The Rivain was certainly eye-catching, matching the description Hawke had given him. Actually Hawke had described everyone to him on their way here, because he wanted Fenris to join them on some adventure and had tried to make sure he didn't feel unwelcome or lost upon his introduction. He hadn't mentioned that Hrodwynn would be here, however, which surprised him as he was fairly sure the two didn't like each other.
Suddenly realizing he was standing there, staring at everyone, and probably acting fairly rude, he took the closest available seat, right next to the young, brightly colored girl. She was wearing yet another tunic tonight, this one a dark red that nearly matched her hair. As he sat she wiggled to the side, freeing up a little more space on the bench.
Hrodwynn didn't want Fenris to think she was moving away from him, just making room for him, so she shifted over just a little. The table was already crowded, however, so she couldn't go too far. Carver sitting on her other side had a hand on his lap, and when she made room for Fenris, her thigh pressed against his, trapping two of his fingers between them. He waited until she took a nervous sip of ale before he ever-so-slowly pulled them free.
The weak, tepid brew shot out of her mouth and across the table, running off the edge and onto Hawke's lap. He hissed a curse and looked up at her, his eyes narrowing, trying to decide of she'd done that on purpose. Hrodwynn, however, wasn't paying attention to him, trying to ignore Carver's fingers teasingly on her thigh as Fenris patted her back to help clear her airways.
"Poor girl, can't hold her ale," giggled Merrill.
"You should talk, Daisy," Varric sighed at her. "Another mug, and you won't be able to find your way home. Again."
"Oh, that's alright. There's always someone willing to help me get home. I have lots of people offering, every time I leave here." She gave a little hiccough.
Isabela rolled her eyes, Aveline shook her head, and Carver coughed as Varric added, "I know, my dear. And it's costing me a fortune to see that you get home without their help. Just…" he took her mug out of her hands, "Do me a favor, and walk home with Isabela tonight, alright?"
"Oh, you want me to spend the night with Isabela? But then why go back to my place? I thought she had a room here."
Carver's cough turned into a poorly disguised laugh. Aveline put a hand to her brow, and Isabela stared at her as if she couldn't believe Merrill could be so dense. Hrodwynn hid a giggle behind her mug, looking at Carver to ask, "Do you always have this much fun?"
"Oh, yes," Hawke said drolly, "Whether we're fighting shades, or Merrill's naivety, or babysitting little girls, it's always a riot."
Hrodwynn felt the sting of his words keenly, even if not everyone there understood the jibe, dropping her gaze to her mug but refusing to let the tears out. Fine, Hawke saw her as a little kid, a tagalong, whatever. There was no reason she should give a fuck what he thought of her, no reason at all.
Carver snapped his fingers, as if only just remembering something, as he came to her defense. "Speaking of fighting shades," he began, "Hrodwynn never got her share from the other night, did she? You had promised to pay her this afternoon…"
Hawke made a disgruntled sound in the back of his throat, and his tone of voice was anything but contrite. "Ah, sorry, must've slipped my mind. Here."
A bag of coin was tossed at her, lobbed over the top of the table like a missile. She saw it heading straight for her tender nose, but without even flinching she reached out and caught it in her left hand. Bringing her hand and the purse down from in front of her face, she looked at Hawke and smiled as nicely as she could manage. "Thank you."
"Well, now that you've got your money, I suppose you'll be on your way," Hawke continued, glancing at the door suggestively.
Hrodwynn couldn't help getting the impression that she was being dismissed. Especially when he continued to stare at her, one eyebrow raised suggestively, like he was waiting for something. She wanted to stay with Carver and Varric, and the others, but the longer she hesitated, the darker his expression grew. She never glanced around at the others, or she would have seen Carver's indignation, or Isabela's amusement, or Aveline's shock.
Or Fenris' disappointment.
Instead her vision tunneled to her hand around the mug, the peripherals threatening to turn watery and dim. "Right," she stood up, backing away from the table with her chin tucked down on her chest. She could take a hint; the grownups wanted to talk, so the kiddies had to go to bed. "Well, I guess I'll be going now. It was nice meeting everyone. Thanks for the drink, Carver. See you around." Never once did her face lift up high enough for anyone to see the tears forming.
"Wait, Hrodwynn," Carver would have toppled over the bench in his haste to stand up, if Fenris hadn't also been sitting on it. "I'll… ah… I'll walk you home."
"That's all the way to Darktown," Hawke protested, "And we do have business to discuss…"
Hrodwynn interrupted him, interrupted both brothers as Carver looked about to start arguing. "No, I'll be fine. Really. Thanks, but I'm a big girl. I can find my own way home. Done so for years. Honest. I don't need anyone 'babysitting' me."
It was a cheap shot, and really didn't hurt Hawke half as much as it hurt her, and made her look childish and foolish, but damn-it he could hurt her feelings by just sitting there! She practically raced out the door like a five-year-old after a scolding, but she didn't care. She had her money. She had her pride. She didn't need the others' friendship or companionship. And she'd be damned before she let Hawke push her into tears in front of them.
The arse, she thought to herself, the poncey arse. There was no reason he had to be so mean to her. All he had to do was pay her, and she'd have left right after he arrived. But no, he had to sit and talk with Varric. He even had to make her wait for hours before he deigned to show up! If he wanted to be rid of her, why did he take so long doing it?
"Hrodwynn!" a voice called out, but she didn't want anyone to see her, not with half her face damp from tears. She ducked around a corner to slip into the dark shadows and waited, scrubbing at her cheeks with the sleeve of her tunic.
Two forms marched down the center of the street, stopping just past where she was hiding. "She would've had to come this way, wouldn't she?" Aveline asked in her authoritative tone.
"It is the most direct route to Darktown," Fenris agreed. His eyes swept in the whole area, and for a brief and panicky moment, she thought he could see where she was hiding. She pressed deeper into the darkness, and didn't breathe again until his gaze passed her hiding place. "But perhaps she lives in a different part of Darktown, somewhere on the outskirts. Still, I don't think we need to be concerned about her."
"She's just a child." Aveline started towards Hrodwynn's nook.
"True," he allowed, taking her arm to stop her and speak with her, "But she has lived in Kirkwall long enough to know how to take care of herself, especially if she resides in Darktown. I… I don't think we'll find her, not if she doesn't want to be found. If anything, she will find us."
Aveline sighed. "I suppose you're right. Still, it breaks my heart, seeing a child like that, alone in the world, struggling to survive."
Fenris thought of her several change of tunics, quite an accomplishment for someone who lived in the poorest neighborhood of Kirkwall. There were also all those things she had brought over to his place yesterday; the medicine alone had to be expensive. "She does alright for herself. I suppose we should let her go, and get back to Hawke."
Aveline shook her head. "No, count me out of tonight's discussion. I overheard enough when he was talking with Varric. I have a feeling this is one of those things of Hawke's that, as a City Guard, I do not want to be involved in. Give him my regrets, would you? And tell him, he knows where he can find me, if he has need of me."
"I will. Good night, Captain Aveline," Fenris bowed respectfully to her. She gave a brief jerk of her head before turning away. He stood there, watching her march off until she was swallowed by the night and a turn of the street. Then he took a deep breath, walked over to the edge of the building, and leaned against it. To all outward appearances, he looked to be simply taking a break, catching his breath or resting his tired feet. But even from a few feet away, Hrodwynn could tell he was alert for danger.
"I never got the chance to thank you for helping me," he said softly, his deep and rugged voice carrying no further than her ears.
She audibly swallowed. A little fearfully, she watched him tilt his head to look over his shoulder and directly at her. Her steps were hesitant as she moved out of the shadows, but her mind raced as she tried to figure out what he meant. "Thank me?" Maker, it was bad enough that he had known exactly where she was hiding, but did her voice have to squeak?
Fenris stared in fascination as the girl went from being perfectly hidden to slipping out into the open. He had only known she was there because he had seen her slip around the corner—he had taken a gamble that she was still close enough to hear him and not long gone. Watching her step forward hesitantly like a wild animal about to bolt, he took in every aspect of her appearance. Her cheeks were still pink, but now he didn't think it was due to the alcohol like he had thought earlier. Her eyes continued to hold on to unshed moisture, and the sleeve of her tunic was slightly damp. Though she seemed upset and… fearful?… she faced him squarely; truly she was a brave young woman. "Yes, thank you for protecting my back, during the fight at Danarius' mansion. It took courage to step into a swing like you did. Though next time," he stared critically at her features, "You probably shouldn't use your face as a shield."
She gave a little laugh and sniff, glad that she could use her nose. "Yes, well," her mind was humming, half relieved that he was only talking about the fight, and half irritated that he hadn't mentioned her tending his wound. Then she froze, unable to speak or move, as his long fingers reached up and touched the bridge of her nose. She should have winced, like she had done earlier when her healer friend looked at it, but Fenris' touch was so light, his fingertips barely brushed her skin.
"I'm glad to see your nose has healed with hardly a bruise."
There was that loud, convulsing gulp strangling her throat again. "Ah, well," damn, but she sounded dull. She quickly kicked her brain in gear and tried to think of something intelligent to say. "I know a pretty good healer, in Darktown, near where I live, a friend of mine. He looked at it and…" she suddenly stopped, not because she was rambling, which she was, but because she remembered what Fenris had said about his former master, and his distrust of mages. She thought that his hatred might extend even to those who used healing magic, though why he would want to be friends with Hawke puzzled her. Shrugging her shoulders and setting the random thoughts aside, she finished lamely, "You know."
Amazingly, he didn't seem upset, merely nodding at her explanation. "He has great skill, this healer friend of yours. Did you get those medicines from him?"
She blinked, feeling the color drain from her cheeks. Damn, so he did remember her coming uninvited into his home and stripping him down to his leggings and fondling his markings. Well, she thought to herself, at least she wasn't blushing any longer. Her voice had abandoned her, however, and she could only nod.
"Then I would have you give him my thanks, both for the medicines for me, and for his care of you."
He looked like he wanted to say something more. Her head was tilted, looking up at him, as he leaned over her, looking down, his fingertips on her cheek. Again she got that girlish giggly feeling, wondering if he was going to kiss her, and why would he kiss her, and what had she done to encourage him, and could she encourage him more…
"I should get back to Hawke and the others," he said, his voice as deep as the shadows. "Take care of yourself, Hrodwynn."
Venhedis, he thought to himself, seeing the tears returning to her eyes, but it was better for her if he pushed her away. He didn't know what he was doing, or why, only that she would get hurt worse if he didn't keep her at a distance. He turned, his steps leading back to the tavern while his thoughts remained behind. Hrodwynn was just a girl, a child really, though a talented rogue. He had no business feeling impulses towards her.
He had no business feeling impulses towards anyone. He was an escaped slave, still hunted by his former master. His freedom was a mockery. His life an inconvenience. And anyone close to him ran the risk of getting hurt…
…like getting their nose broken in a fight.
He finally managed to push all thoughts of Hrodwynn aside as he pushed the door open. The Hanged Man was loud, crushingly so, the atmosphere heavy and congested, compressing the sights and sounds and smells until his stomach threatened to roil. The others were still at their table, the two brothers noticeably ignoring each other, and everyone else trying to ignore their discomfort.
Fenris took his earlier seat, now much roomier, and said, "Aveline offers her apologies, but she doesn't feel she would be appropriate for whatever… adventure… you wanted to make plans for tonight. She does say, you know where to find her, if you ever have need."
Hawke waved it aside. "Yes, fine, she was always proud and a stickler for the rules."
"What about Hrodwynn?" Carver pressed. "Did you find her?"
Fenris turned and regarded him coldly. "Not a trace," he lied. He wasn't sure what made him say that, but the thought of Carver pursuing Hrodwynn was unsettling. He felt the need to protect her from him.
"Don't worry about her, Junior," Varric offered. "I've heard a bit about Hrodwynn; she's a survivor, if anything."
"Can we please get back to the reason we're meeting here tonight?" Hawke asked, exasperated. Carver crossed his arms but kept quiet, Isabela nodded and Merrill clapped her hands.
"Oh, yes, please. Though I can't remember anymore what it was," the Dalish elf bubbled.
Varric sighed, "Have another drink, Daisy. We're here…" he stopped as the barmaid approached with a tray of ale. He waited for Hawke to pay for and pass out the next round of drinks. Then, when the barmaid had moved on, he cleared his throat and started again, "We're here to talk about my brother's expedition into the Deep Roads. Though Bartrand knows where we're going, we still need to find an entrance into the Deep Roads, preferably one close to the Thaig. Now, I've heard rumors that there's a healer in Darktown who might know of an entrance, but I've been having trouble getting anyone to tell me who or where he is."
Fenris leaned back a little, one black eyebrow twitched upwards with dry amusement. "A healer in Darktown, you said?"
"Yes, do you know of him?"
He shook his head at Varric's question. "No, but I think I know someone who does."
"Who?" Hawke asked, his hand reaching partway across the table.
"You're not going to like it," he warned, but answered anyway.
Hawke bit off the curse. "You're right; I don't like this."
Fenris wanted to smile. He liked seeing the little pout on Hawke's lips, seeing the mage being taken down a notch or two. A little humility would do him good. "It would have been easier, if you hadn't been in such a hurry to get rid of her last night."
Hawke scoffed, "She's a girl, Fenris. She's too young for what we're planning."
"Yet she seems to be in possession of the very information we need."
"No, just the easiest way to get it. Actually," Hawke looked down a side street that would lead to Darktown. They had left word at Anso's stall for Hrodwynn to come to Fenris' mansion. They had been fairly sure she wouldn't want to come, if they mentioned the Hanged Man, thinking that Hawke was looking for her. But she liked Fenris—much to Hawke's chagrin—so there was a better chance she would show up if he made the request for her help. "Actually, I'm not sure she's the best solution. I mean, there has to be others that know of this healer. And I am Ferelden; I should be able to talk with my fellow refugees and find out about him myself."
"In case you haven't noticed," Fenris pointed out, "You've done quite well for yourself. Granted, you're no nobleman, but neither are you squatting in the sewers. You're no longer a Ferelden refugee. And they could resent you for it. No, Hawke," he sighed, opening the door to the mansion, "She's our best bet."
"Fine," he huffed, heading inside ahead of Fenris, "But I still don't like it."
No one said you had to like it, Fenris thought to himself, but he didn't dare give it voice. Even after running away from his master, even after ensuring his freedom through mountains of bodies and rivers of blood, there were still some lines he wouldn't—or couldn't—cross.
The afternoon passed quietly, the two of them spending it in idle chatter. After his initial huff, Hawke calmed down, even turned on a bit of charm, which caught Fenris off guard. At one point, he almost found himself laughing. Laughing! He would liked to have excused himself then, asked Hawke to leave to allow himself a chance to clear his head, but he knew they would have to stay together, waiting there until Hrodwynn arrived.
If she came.
If she checked in with Anso today.
If she thought it was Fenris who wanted to see her.
If…
A knock sounded on the door, and Fenris jumped to his feet to answer it. The action was natural, even enthusiastic, yet he didn't dare give it any thought to find out if his eagerness came from that long-engrained servitude he had yet to overcome, or for that breath of fresh air he needed. It was merely a knock on his door, so he should be the one to open it.
The doorway framed Hrodwynn, wearing the bright green tunic that matched her eyes. She looked like she had been just about to turn away, but seeing him answer made her turn back, the tips of her dark red hair brushing over the tops of her shoulders. "Um, hi." The light tinge of pink returned to her cheeks as she tried to hold his gaze.
"Hello," he gave a little nod, stepping aside and gesturing with his hand. "Thank you for coming, Hrodwynn. Please, come inside. There's something we need to discuss with you."
"'We'?" she asked, crossing the portal. Looking around the interior, she saw that it was still trashed from the fight the other night. Apparently, Fenris didn't do housekeeping, or didn't care. Well, that wasn't her problem. She was only there because Anso had sent a message that Fenris wanted to see her…
"Yes."
She closed her eyes a moment, feeling her gorge rise at just the sound of Hawke's voice. When she turned from Fenris towards him, however, her face was bright and open. "Oh, hello, Hawke. How are you?"
Maker, Hawke thought to himself, but she was making this hard, with that affected, girlish voice. Why didn't she put her hair in pigtails and skip down the hallway? He was about to retort, when he caught Fenris' eye over her shoulder. Right, they needed her help. No matter how infuriating or irritating she was going to be, he would be the better man and rise above their differences. "I'm fine, Hrodwynn, thank you for asking. And," he stepped closer, turning on the charm and smiling warmly, "Thank you for coming." He picked up both her hands, and kissed the backs of them, moving his soft lips a little against her skin.
"I, ah," she glanced over her shoulder, feeling like she had just stepped into a trap that had sprung closed before she ever saw it. "I thought Fenris wanted to see me. So I came. I didn't know you'd be here."
"That's why we asked you to come here," Fenris provided, "Because we didn't think you'd want to see Hawke again, after last night."
Hawke shot him a look, telling him with narrowed eyes to stop interfering. But Hrodwynn gave a short sort of laugh. "No, I suppose I wouldn't have." She looked back at him, but his features were schooled once more into a suave and warm smile. "Alright, fine, what do you want?"
"Just some information," Hawke said, "Nothing too strenuous."
"Oh," she had been thinking he'd changed his mind, but of course he wouldn't want her for this mysterious job of his. She tried to hide the disappointment and instead waited for him to continue.
"We need to find someone," he said, still holding one hand and leading her to a couch. He sat down next to her, Fenris standing nearby, making her feel like she was back in that trap again, held captive between the two men.
"Someone specific?" she prompted, using the little exercise in deduction to distract her from the trapped feeling. "Let me guess, someone in Darktown?"
"Yes," he sighed, "A healer. We don't know who he is, only that he's somewhere in Darktown, and Fenris mentioned you knew of a healer…" His words faded away, seeing as she was leaning back and trying to pull her hand out of his grip.
"Oh, no," Hrodwynn shook her head, "No fucking way. No. Never. Not gonna happen!"
"Hrodwynn," Hawke's voice took a disapproving tone, turning fatherly on her, but Fenris stepped forward and also spoke.
"Please, Hrodwynn, it is important to us." His deep voice seemed to have some sway with her, so Hawke decided to let him speak. "We only need some information from your friend. He may not even be the one we're looking for…"
"There's only one healer in Darktown, one who'd be harder to find, anyway," she muttered darkly, crossing her arms and looking away.
"Which is why we need you to introduce us." He knelt in front of her, much like she had when she tended his shoulder. "Please, we just want to talk with him, find out if he knows anything that could help us. We don't mean him any harm."
She looked at him a moment, almost like she was trying to be swayed, her lips pursed, her brows scrunched. Eventually, however, she gave a little shake of her head. "No," she whispered, "I can't do it." Fenris looked at her closely for any signs of subterfuge, but she seemed genuinely distraught, caught between protecting her friend and disappointing him.
Hawke, on the other hand, was less gracious. His patience was slipping, making him almost snap at her, "Can't, or won't?"
"Won't," she retorted. "You don't understand, you may not intend him harm, but others do. He's not hiding in Darktown out of choice, you know, no one does. There are bad people after him, and even if you're not one of them, you could lead those people to him." She pushed herself off the couch and took a few steps away, needing a little space away from the other two. She reached a wall and turned back to them, a thumbnail between her teeth, her eyes staring blindly at the floorboards. Hawke acted like he wanted to say something, but closed his mouth again when Fenris signaled him to remain silent. Though he didn't like it, he could see the girl and the elf had some sort of fledgling rapport growing, so he trusted Fenris to know how to handle her.
"If," she started, pulling out of her thoughts and looking up at them again, "And I mean IF I agree to this, I could take a message to him, from you, asking him if he would agree to meet you. But I won't take you to him. IF I deliver your message, and IF he agrees to see you, then you should be prepared to meet somewhere neutral. Not where he lives and works in Darktown."
Hawke barely kept himself from rolling his eyes at the unnecessary, silly precautions. "Fair enough," he agreed magnanimously, though inwardly he was underwhelmed by the extra drama, "Ask him if he'll meet with us, at a place of his choosing. Tell him whatever he wants to know, about me, or Varric, or even Fenris. I promise to answer any other questions he has, when we meet in person."
She nodded. "Alright. I'll deliver your message. Where should I bring his answer to you? At the Hanged Man again?"
Hawke nodded. "It's as good a place as any. I can spend a couple of hours there tomorrow afternoon, if that isn't too soon."
"That'll be fine," she agreed. When no one else spoke again, she looked between them and hummed. "Well, then, I'll go ask him, and bring his answer to you." She seemed fairly uncomfortable around Hawke still, and thinking the appointment was finished, she started heading towards the door.
"I'll walk you out," offered Fenris, falling into step by her side. Hawke, thankfully, left them alone, though he thought he could feel Hawke's eyes on them.
Fenris stepped outside with her, fully closing the door behind them, a small sigh escaping his chest. Her brow grew a cute little wrinkle at his action, but he ignored it and focused on what he had to say. "Thank you, Hrodwynn. I realize Hawke has been less than gracious with you, but this is important to him, and he does appreciate your help."
"Oh, well," she glanced away, a little flustered by his praise, "I suppose, whatever Hawke's planning, that you're gonna be involved, too, so for your sake, I'll make sure he has good information."
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. That was twice in one day he had felt almost… amused. He squelched the impulse before it took root. "I'd appreciate that."
She looked like she wanted to say or do something more, but the atmosphere between them quickly grew awkward. She opened her mouth a few times, made a funny little smile, but without another word she suddenly turned and disappeared into the evening crowds.
Hawke opened the door and said softly, "Follow her."
