It occurred to me one morning as I nursed the hangover so kindly given to me by the previous day's ale, that Hawke and I had never played a game of Wicked Grace. It was this thought that put a smile on my face all day, and kept my spirits high even after a fight with the coterie. Perhaps surrounded by corpses wasn't the best time to bring up card games but what kind of friend would I be if I didn't involve her in such a fine pursuit?

"Hey, Hawke."

She didn't turn to face me, preoccupied with the pockets of the poor bastard she'd put down with a particularly vicious bolt of lightning.

"Yes, Varric?" was her reply, I surveyed the area with a smirk on my face. None of us relished the idea of killing anyone, but we weren't above it either. In this town, being above anything would put you six feet below ground. Anders was looking more and more tired by the day, and now even as he looked at the bodies of our attackers his expression was harrowed. Fenris at first glance would seem completely unperturbed but those of us who knew him, knew better. The situation didn't matter, he was still unable to let go of the anger inside of him. That settled it.

"Have you ever played Wicked Grace?"

There was a pause, all heads turned to face me.

"Pardon?" Anders asked incredulously.

"Wicked Grace, we should get together for a game." I threw a smile in blondie's direction, "All of us. Some drinks, some cards - in the Hanged Man."

We probably wouldn't be bothered there, unless by a drunken brawl, which wasn't something we would be surprised by. In the end Hawke stood and pretended to think about it.

"Why not, we get drunk most nights, might as well get drunk with a bit of a purpose. I don't know if Merrill will grasp it properly though."

Everyone had a bit of a chuckle to themselves imagining Merrill anything other than stone cold sober, it was true she'd probably just stay as she was and try to follow the game.

"Now that's settled, let's get out of here before the Templars show up." Anders offered eventually.

"Agreed."

It was nice to have everyone around a table together without it being about something morbid, and interesting to observe the interactions we had going on within the group. I sat in my seat, because it was my seat and I always sat there. I doubt anyone would have made an attempt to sit there even if I hadn't been in it, there was an unspoken rule about seats and their owners. If there was another chair available, one did not sit in someone else's seat.

Anyway, I'm getting off track.

I sat in my usual seat, which was one end of an elongated table. The seat at the opposite end of the table was left empty - presumably everyone assumed that Hawke would have the other 'head' of the table. On my left sat Merrill, next to whom sat Fenris, opposite them being Aveline and Anders respectively. Isabella would change where she was sat, sometimes next to Fenris, sometimes next to Anders. She was quite animated and didn't seem to sit still for long, or necessarily in a seat, as opposed to on the table itself.

There is a lot to be said for the way people sit around a table. It tells one about the social dynamic. From what you know about our merry little band so far you might assume that Fenris and Anders would sit as far away from each other as possible, and that maybe Merrill would sit next to Anders, trading her place with Aveline. However, regardless of their opposing points of view, Fenris and Anders respected each other on a certain level and perhaps felt that their conversations were as fulfilling as they were antagonising. Anders was uncomfortable with Merrill and her blood magic to the point that it made him jittery and jumpy - the last thing anyone needs from an unstable mage with a martyr complex and a spirit living inside of them. Fenris, although he disliked her, did not fear Merrill in any way and as such was quite comfortable being sat next to her.

Merrill herself enjoyed sitting next to another elf, it gave her some comfort now that she was away from her clan. Aveline found Anders' conversation to be the most pleasant of the three of them when it didn't involve anything about mages or the Chantry. Then there was Isabella, who despite her popularity with everyone present, did her best not to leave a lasting impression on anyone. She paid everyone the same shallow level of attention - perhaps out of a desire not to be attached to anyone.

Now, why did Hawke and I get the ends of the table? I mean other than the obvious point of there not being much more space. The answer to that is that I was sat in the aforementioned chair belonging to me, and that Hawke was the unspoken leader of our little ragtag group. We'd joke on occasion that we were mummy and daddy to a bunch of very unruly children.

Speak of the devil, while I was dealing out the hands our fearless leader came bounding over with a rather impressive balancing act going on. She'd somehow managed to carry over seven pints. Something told me that as the night wore on she'd be finding that more and more difficult.

She slid the drinks down the table to everyone and plonked herself down in her seat, propping her feet up on the table top and sending me a wide grin. Definitely already been drinking.

"What are the rules of this game?" It was Merrill who spoke first.

"House always wins." Anders grumbled unenthusiastically. "That's the only rule worth noting."

"Hey, don't put her off before she's even started!" I chastised him.

We continued on like this for a while, getting slowly more drunk as time wore on. Bets became stranger and stranger until we'd gotten far past the point of coin and into the realm of something else entirely. Stories were exchanged - some far to scandalous for me to put down in ink.

"Okay, okay." Hawke slurred, slamming her flagon down onto the table and staring me directly in the face. She was becoming increasingly frustrated by my wins throughout the course of the night. "I'm gonna make you an offer you can't refuse."

I smirked at her, I wasn't exactly sober myself but for all her strength she really couldn't handle alcohol.

"What does the great Miss Hawke have to offer the house?"

She removed all of her armour and piled it up in the middle of the table.

"If you win," she grumbled to everyone's amusement. "I'll go out in my smallclothes and walk right into the Chantry."

I laughed quickly, enough to make my ale come out of my nose. Must have been quite a sight.

"Oh I have to see that. What if you win?"

She considered this for a while then regarded me with a wicked grin.

"You let me shave your chest hair off. All of it."

A chorus of whoops and hollers confirmed that the rest of the table thought this would be a great idea.

It was an interesting proposition, and at the time I was so sure of victory that I didn't bat an eyelid at accepting her offer. It turned out Hawke had figured out I'd been cheating, and she had started cheating in her own way to match. It was a good game, but in the end this became the story of how Hawke was forced to embarrass a bunch of Chantry mothers.

It had been a sight to behold, but even though she had enough alcohol in her system to keep her face red and her skin hot I knew letting her wander back to her house without any real clothes or armour on was a bad idea.

So I ended up giving her my coat and helping her back home - which is easier said than done when you're shorter than the person you're trying to support.

"You cheated." she slurred her words, unable to walk in a straight line.

"So did you," I reminded her. "I just did it better."

"Dick."

"Love you too Hawke."

We said nothing for the rest of the journey back to the estate, mostly we just enjoyed each other's company and the wind chill on our faces. We tried hard to be quiet as I dragged her indoors and to her room. She had shared one with Carver in Gamlen's Lowtown house and remarked often that hers was too large and lonely here in comparison. I let her off my shoulder and onto her bed.

"Hey, dwarf." she groaned, giving me a suitably displeased look.

"Yes?" I asked in return.

"I think you should do your forfeit anyway."

I scoffed looking down at her.

"And what makes you say that?"

"You cheated. We both did, so we should both lose right?"

I looked at her, trying to gauge if she was any more sober than she had been a half hour ago. She wasn't.

"Sorry milady, I would not let anyone in your state anywhere near me with a sharp object."

She seemed satisfied with that and waved for me to go.

"Fine, another time."

"Another time." I agreed, knowing full well that she wouldn't remember this come morning. I'd have to remember to drop off her armour. I might have won it from her but I had no intention of keeping it.

This was the first time I ever saw Hawke too drunk to function, but it sure as hell wasn't the last.

...

..

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I feel like there's a lot of itallics in this chapter but it conveys a sense of sarcasm and anything involving Varric and Hawke is bound to have a lot of sarcasm.
The chapters in this story are a lot shorter than I usually allow myself but I'm trying to tell myself that each one is a short story in itself so it doesn't bother me as much.
I'm trying to update relatively quickly to make up for the lack of content per chapter.