Eek, sorry this is late. Got distracted by my Warden. I blame him. I also then proceeded to lose the file I had with my most recent changes because I had saved it in my Temp folder instead of my writing folder. So that took a while to refind. Ugh. But here it is! More shenanigans.

Warnings – Tiny bit of language. More Sebastian in a blanket. Nothing big.

Flashback

"Merrill… What are you doing?"

Apparently fed up with the whole non-sense, having stopped bothering to hound Isabela for his clothing, Sebastian gestured towards the pair seated by Merrill's door with mild disgust. "What does it look like? She's indoctrinating him."

'Indoctrinating' seemed a bit much for what appeared to be a liberal coating of trees and, possibly, rabbits.

"Varric agreed to help me appease the bunny god!" A few green dots were hastily flecked onto Varric's skin. Leaves, most likely.

The Dwarf squirmed uncomfortably. "You sure this is going to help? It tickles and I feel ridiculous."

Merrill's assurances were half smothered under Sebastian's protests. "You can't just drag a devout Andrastian into a heathen ritual!"

"Devout… Varric?" Hawke gave Sebastian a sidelong look, half of exasperation and half amusement.

The priest crossed his arms, failing to look as serious as he probably wanted, wrapped in only a blanket. "Yes. I had not entirely expected it either, but he does attend service, weekly."

Now that was news. Hawke shrugged. "Well, he did join willingly. That has to count for something."

"Willingly!?" Sebastian gestured more wildly at the pair. Varric had at some point started struggling against uncontrollable laughter as Merrill began to more tickle him with the brush than paint with it. "Look at them! She got him high!"

"To be fair, she thought she was giving him tea."

"Tea!? I told him it was a horrible idea! Even Fenris, sloshed as he is, told Varric it was a bad idea."

Not far away, prowling the perimeter, Fenris stopped long enough to glower at Sebastian, hesitating as he struggled to search the statement for insult. None found, he took a swig from a mysteriously procured bottle. Hawke scowled. The Elves needed to stop imbibing mystery substances.

It was only mid rant that Sebastian noticed Merrill was already half way up the Vhenadahl in the center of the alienage. "What are you doing!?" the Priest squawked. For all his ranting about her behavior, Hawke noted he seemed awfully worried as he hurried over to the tree. "Merrill! Get down!"

Clung onto the side like a squirrel, Merrill laughed. "Need a seed pod!"

"You need to get down before you break your neck! You're inebriated!"

Large green eyes blinked at him, irises near lost in the vast black of her pupils. Clearly at a loss for what the priest was ranting about, the she Elf shrugged and continued her scurry up the tree. Her quest for a seed pod however was shortly lived. In moments she was hanging from the back of her knees, swinging in a fit of giggles. Beneath her, Sebastian looked ready to lay an egg as he circled anxiously. He was more likely to get crushed than manage to catch her.

"Get down!"

Hawke sighed. "I'm too sober for this…"

Seriously considering the risk of attempting to steal Fenris' mystery alcohol, Hawke found him standing guard by Isabela, who was still in possession of Sebastian's clothing. Swaying a little too much, he had stabbed his blade into the ground, gripping the hilt tightly in one hand to keep his balance as he kept a hold on his bottle with the other.

"I think that might be a sign," Hawke teased as she approached.

Eyes narrowed, Fenris held the bottle a little closer. Perhaps stealing the alcohol was not the wisest of options.

"Isabela… Are you painting something on Sebastian's small cloths…?"

Isabela grinned broadly and brandished the garment proudly. A slightly smeared skull gazed owlishly at her. "I've plundered his booty."

It was decided. Alcohol simply would not be enough to cure this. Striding over to Varric, who was struggling (and failing) to look at what Merrill had painted on his back, Hawke snatched the pouch of "tea leaves" off his thigh. "Give me that." And before he could offer protest, she swallowed a palm full.

Present

"Hawke! You joined in!? I thought you were following them to be responsible!"

"I was!" Hawke defended weakly. "But at some point you just have to throw in the towel and join the madness. The Elves were already giving us enough frowny faces from their windows without me climbing their tree to retrieve Merrill and getting shanked! …Or splinters. Maker, I hate splinters… Got a three inch one in my foot once… Fucking miserable…"

Unimpressed, Aveline growled, "Not the point. And I take it then this is how you ended up in a Templar's undergarments."

"… There is a slim possibility. But yeah, that was not tea. At all."

Flashback

"Stuffing my hand through a man's chest."

"Broody, that doesn't count. Shoving your fist into people is a regular habit of yours." Somewhere in the back, Isabela barked out a laugh and tipped over. Varric glanced around, at a loss for where the sound had come from. "… Right… Killing people is our thing. It's what we do."

Hardly put off, Fenris took a swig. Hawke gestured broadly in his direction, nearly smacking the bottle from his hand. "Where the hell did you even get that? How do you always have booze?"

The bottle was raised for examination, failed to produce results, and received a blink and a shrug.

An attempt was made for the bottle's life. With a grunt, Hawke half fell over Fenris' lap, reaching for it as the Elf held it just out of reach. Fingers wiggled as the Mage let out a plaintive whine. "Gimmie."

"Mine."

"Maker, why am I so damn hungry?" Varric grouched as his stomach rumbled yet again. Lacking food, he snagged a palm full of 'tea'. "Uch. Not helping. Think I feel worse actually…"

The bottle was shifted between hands. "That's because you're not supposed to eat tea, fool."

"Fenris! Gimmie! If you're not going to share the damn alcohol then you can't fuss about us eating tea."

"I'm not fussing."

"Avast, ye swabs!"

Three sets of bleary eyes glanced up as a crude flag made of a stick of the Vhenadahl tree and Sebastian's small cloths was held aloft. Slowly, their attention shifted to Sebastian.

At this point, Sebastian had simply given up. Glowering from the shadows beneath the tree, he crossed his arms. "You know what? I don't even care anymore. Take the damned thing."

The ensuing silence lasted for maybe a second.

"I once phased my entire body into a person."

Expressions of revulsion were abound. Above them, the tree exclaimed, "BOOM!" And then, "… That is very sad."

"That's it," Varric grouched. "The tree is talking. Fuck it. I'm leaving." His attempt to rise however failed, more so when Hawke and Fenris both grabbed for his boots.

"No!"

"Oh for the love of Andraste… It's not the tree!" Sebastian growled. "It's Merrill." Said Elf was lost somewhere among the branches. Trying to scan the leafy branches just made Hawke feel nauseous.

"I knew that," Varric muttered before allowing Hawke and Fenris to drag him down again. "Alright already! And Broody, that still doesn't count. I told you, killing people is what we do. Messy, sure, but … 'usual' fare. Can hardly be counted the strangest thing one of us has done."

A moment of contemplation. Fenris swirled the bottle of what was possibly wine. "What about the time I phased through a wall… and got stuck."

It was too much. In a fit of laughter, Varric slumped over, curling in on himself. "Please, I need to see this happen again."

"Hell no," Fenris grumbled. "Was horrible. I was half way in one room and half back in the last."

Given up on the bottle of booze, Hawke ungracefully rolled out of Fenris' lap to lay sprawled between him and Varric. "What about the time Carver, Bethany, and I stole some farmer's pigs to race? … That was such a horrible idea… Didn't even get them more than a street away before we got caught. Literally got the family run out of town with a pitchfork. I blame Carver."

Recovering from his laughter with a series of coughs, Varric shook his head. "Hawke, Fenris getting stuck in a wall is more exciting than that. Sorely disappointed I missed that. Also, how are you alive?"

No answer was forth coming from the Elf even as Hawke shouted something about lies and slander. But as the trio scoured their memories for the most absurd things they had ever done, none could agree on what was the absolute worst.

"Enough!" Hawke broke in, swaying unsteadily to her feet. "If we can't decide then I'll do it right now! Give me something crazy." She gestured with her hand, calling for ideas, but instead received a near empty pouch of leaves. With a shrug she snatched another palm full.

Bottle empty, Fenris cast it aside in disappointment. "I don't know… Catch Gamlen and ride him like one of those pigs of yours through Low Town?"

Hawke hunched over with a guffaw, but shook her head even as she laughed. "As much as I'd fucking love to, not crazy enough. Uch, and I'd have to deal with his bitching later. That or another threat to hack off my hair and sell it," she muttered.

"Because he's not going to yell at you about something else regardless?"

"True," Hawke contemplated, "but still, I need something crazier."

The three barely noticed as Merrill was at last coaxed out of the tree and had joined Isabela in whispered cahoots. Fenris and Varric tossed out ideas, but each was rejected. Rubbing the start of stubble on his chin, Varric at last offered, "Fine, then I bet you cannot get into the Gallows and steal a Templar's uniform. And I don't mean one from the recruit supplies, I mean a used uniform."

Incredulous, yet Hawke's expression had begun to rise in a grin. "You want me to strip a Templar?"

"If that's what gets you excited, whatever. I just want to see someone's name embroidered on them."

Even drunk, there was still enough cognitive power left in Fenris' brain to put together that that was probably a horrible idea. "That's suicida—"

"Done!" Hawke cried. "Bring it, Dwarf. What do I get in return?"

"I'll have Gamlen shoved off the Docks at the day's peak by an anonymous party. Public humiliation galore."

Head tossed back, Hawke barked out a maniacal laugh. "Yes. Deal."

The Present

"And that is how Hawke ended up in a fist fight with a hobo," Varric finished.

"Wait, wait, what?" Aveline broke in, both alarmed and lost. It was rather sweet the way her arms dropped from their cross to grip the bars in distress for some unknown stranger. There was no way in Varric's mind that it could be anyone but the hobo that Aveline was worried for. Hawke had a habit of coating her fist with stone before driving it into someone's face. It made the most delightful crunching sound, or so Fenris had said.

"What hobo? What happened to breaking into the Gallows!?"

Stubbornly, Hawke shook her head. "Uh uh. That's my secret. I won the title of craziest among this group. I'm not letting that go."

"That's not something to be proud of, Hawke… And don't you think the Templars should know that there is a flaw in their security?" Aveline asked with a glower.

She was levelled with an unimpressed look. Hawke mouthed the word 'Apostate' and Aveline tossed up her hands with exasperation. "Fine! How did you end up from the Gallows to fist fighting some poor homeless person!? And dare I ask WHO that uniform belongs to?"

"Good question," Hawke mumbled as she wiggled around on the cot. With great effort she slipped her arms back into the tabard to twist it around on her torso. Turning the collar outward, her lips twitched as she silently read the name. A feral grin spread on her face and Aveline felt her hopes sink.

"They belong to one Templar by the name of Cullen Rutherford."

There was no way that at least one blood vessel had not burst when Aveline threw her ensuing fit. Varric watched her, mildly impressed as she had her greatest snit yet in their years together.

"YOU STOLE THE KNIGHT CAPTAIN'S UNIFORM!?"

"And his underwear," Hawke kindly reminded.

"HAWKE!"

"What!? He has spares! Not like this is his only pair of underwear! That's what he gets for patrolling in the middle of the night! A Mage sneaks into his quarters and steals his panties!"

A snort of laughter jolted Varric's head on Hawke's thigh. "Panties?"

Very matter of factly, Hawke nodded. "Templar's wear panties."

Too much. It was simply too much as far as Aveline was concerned. She was starting to seriously regret asking to hear the story, but as Captain of the Guard it was her duty to get to the truth. Teeth grit, she talked over the group. "Hobo fist fight?"

"He was not a hobo," Hawke said with a glare in Varric's direction. "He was a bandit, thank you very much."

"A homeless bandit," the Dwarf countered.

"Bandit hobo."

"You said hobo."

Hawke huffed. "A hobo is not the same as a bandit hobo."

"Enough!" Aveline snapped. "Just tell me the damn story!"

Arms crossed, Hawke did not let up her glower at her shorter companion. "Well Mr. Storyteller? And get the bandit part right."

"If you're not going to tell it and make me do it then you don't get to be picky," Varric grumbled. "So, anyway…"

Chapter 3 – In which Hawke acquires a uniform and Isabela stakes a claim to the Viscount's booty.