Ugh, what was with that man?!

She had been right in front of him, nearly naked, completely soaked, and he had done nothing. This was turning out to be more difficult than she thought it would be.

It was aggravating, but Isabela wasn't done yet. In fact, the group was going out shopping in the market today. And surprise, surprise, Choir Boy had agreed.

He reminded Isabela of an eager puppy, desperate to please her. If she asked him to follow her into the Black City itself, she had no doubt he'd follow her.

So of course, when she asked him if he'd accompany her to the market, he quickly agreed.

This was her chance, she knew, but what could she do now? She sat at her usual stool in the Hanged Man, nursing a vile-smelling ale. What could she possibly do to get those two idiots into each other's pants?

She slammed her fist on the table in frustration and her cup shook slightly, the liquid sloshing around. A drop flew out, splattering on her arm.

Then she got an idea.

Hawke arrived to get Isabela and Varric less than an hour later; everyone who had chosen to come with her was also there: Anders, Merrill, Fenris, and Sebastian. Aveline was busy today; guard business. That was probably a good thing, because there already were so many of them.

Merrill skipped off to fetch Varric, and Hawke made her way through the crowd of patrons, searching for Isabela. She wasn't hard to find, she was in her usual seat; but she wasn't alone.

One of her 'admirers' was seated next to her, likely professing his undying love for her. Isabela looked ready to stab something.

Hawke only caught part of their conversation as she moved towards them.

"You have wormed yourself into the flesh of my heart like a worm in a red, red apple. You heart-worm, you."

Ah. So another poet, then.

With a groan, Isabela turned away and went to stand up. But she had forgotten her cup was resting at the edge of the bar, and she wasn't paying attention. Hawke was standing too close.

Before she could move, the remainder of Isabela's drink landed on Hawke's chest, soaking through her clothes and dripping sticky liquid down her bodice.

"Isabela," she cried.

"Hawke!" Isabela jumped to her feet. "Oh, I'm sorry, kitten! Didn't see you there."

"It's... it's..." Hawke sighed. "I'll just have to go home and change, then."

"Nonsense, woman!" Isabela declared, grabbing her by the wrist. "It was my fault. You can borrow some of my clothes."

"Isabela..."

"Don't worry about it, Hawke. We have things to do today - you can't waste time running back and forth across Kirkwall."

"I can't go out in this, Isa!"

She stared down at her body in horror. It was true, it was better than what Isabela usually wore; instead of a ridiculously short skirt, she wore tight leather trousers. Isabela still insisted on giving her the thigh-high boots.

The top was like what Isabela usually wore; and that was the problem. Hawke did not have the chest that Isabela did, so she risked flashing everyone her underclothes every time she moved.

"Nonsense," Isabela repeated. "You're gorgeous. If you'd let me, I'd have my way with you until Maker knows when."

Hawke blushed. "But-"

Before Hawke could protest, or stop her, Isabela rolled up the extra fabric over her breasts and tucked it into her breastband. "There," she said, pleased with her work.

Hawke slapped her hands away, heaving a sigh. "I can't believe I'm doing this," she grumbled, moving over to the door.

Isabela laughed. "You have no idea how many times I've said that while following you."

Holy flames of Andraste...

If he had to follow her for much longer, Sebastian swore she'd kill him.

Of course he understood that Isabela had spilled her drink on her, and she didn't have time to go home to change... but...

He didn't want to look; he really didn't, but he had to walk behind her. It was almost impossible not to watch.

Those pants were tight around her, emphasizing the perfect, shapely roundness of her arse. Every once in a while the white shirt Isabela had lent her rode up, flashing a bit of creamy skin.

Sebastian tore his eyes away from her. Hawke was his friend, he told himself. She was a good, noble woman and his best friend.

But Maker, that woman...

Apparently, he wasn't the only one who thought so. When he looked up, Anders' gaze was right where his had been. The abomination's mouth was slightly open and he followed her as if entranced.

Sebastian's hands balled into fists as he looked over at Fenris.

Fenris was no better. He eyed her body as he was a wolf, and she was his meal.

But Isabela had to be the worst. She was grinning, unashamedly watching the swaying of Hawke's hips, licking her lips as Hawke leaned over a merchant's stall.

Sebastian forced himself to look at Hawke's face instead. Her hair was up in a messy bun today, loose strands of hair hanging in her eyes. She was radiant, as always, with her joyful hazel eyes and lovely smile. Merrill must have said something cute, because Hawke's face lit up with a grin and she laughed, hooking an arm through the elf's. She was so beautiful.

She must have felt him watching her, because she turned slowly and met his gaze with a curious one of her own. She raised an eyebrow at him, still smiling from ear to ear.

He met her eyes. For once, he didn't look away.

She did. After a few moments, she blushed and looked at the ground, clearing her throat and wandering towards the next stall.

He followed her without thinking, a grin of his own spreading across his face.

She came up to a jeweler, picking up a random amethyst necklace and showing it to Sebastian. "Isn't this lovely, Sebastian?"

"Aye," he agreed, staring into her eyes. "Beautiful."

And she knew he wasn't talking about the jewelry.

Behind her though, where she couldn't see, Varric handed Isabela a couple sovereigns.