It ends up being a rather early night-- at least by my standards. It must only be about ten o'clock in the evening when we go back inside (the night air was getting too chilly for Zevran). My abnormally large meal has made me sleepy, so I park him on the couch with me and put on an old kids' movie to make up for my poor company.

His eyes widen as the upbeat music starts playing and the words Monsters, Inc. flash across the screen.

"The panel… it…" his words run dry.

"Imagine a book, a painting, and an orchestra put together, and that's all this is," I explain. "We call it a movie."

He is apparently too shocked to hide his scoff. "Another of your people's creative names for remarkable things," he says, and I'm sure his joking tone is only for politeness.

Chuckling, I sprawl out and put my feet on the coffee table in front of us, and when I make an inviting gesture, he does the same. "It's a cute movie, this one. Kids love it. Unless you object, I'll leave it running in the background. We can still talk."

He nods, and though he tries to converse, the film sucks in his attention quite quickly. After a while, I grab the patchwork quilt draped over the back of the sofa and put it over Zevran, then take the cushion I'm sitting against and lie down with my head near him.

"Oh," he mumbles after a moment spent ungluing himself from the screen. "I, ah…"

"Movies are better with blankets," I say simply. I pull another one (Mom's a patchworking fiend who produces enough quilty things to cover a city's worth of furniture each year) off the other armchair with a foot and fling it over me. My axiom is accepted with a nod; he rearranges the quilt so that his feet are unobstructed-- presumably to afford him a quick getaway should I suddenly turn into a dragon-- but it's held snugly against his chest with his arms over the top.

Every now and again, I feel him shift a little when a jump-scare happens, and I can't help but wonder if this was the wrong movie to put on. When I steal a glance at him, though, he looks wholly absorbed. I'm not sure if he's even blinking.

I'm blinking, though. Quite a lot. It was a mistake to lie down when a food coma was lurking, but what could I do? Sleep sitting up and leave my mouth lolling open? What a great look that is.

I resolve to blame Zevran (it was his fault, after all, cajoling me into eating those extra gyoza) as my eyes start to slide shut. I won't be asleep long. It's not even sleep, really, I'm just resting my eyes.

I jerk awake and find a knife glinting in the light of the overhead lamp. Not the ideal sight to wake up to when you're unarmed and newly conscious. Keeping my body stock-still, my eyes follow the knife from tip to base, then go back up the hand holding it and along the arm until I find myself looking at an alert Zevran.

Feigning calmness, I yawn and use my index finger to push the knife away by the handle so I can sit up without slicing an ear off. "Sorry about that. I hope I didn't startle you too badly. Was I asleep long?"

I get my answer straight away when Zevran chuckles with a voice that is low from the lack of use. Ah, quite a while, then. The screen must've turned itself off.

"We should probably sleep," I continue, since he has no means of answering my question. "Let me show you the bathroom so you can get ready."

Looking intrigued, he copies me as I throw my blanket over the back of the couch, get to my feet, and go upstairs.

"A bath in your own house," he murmurs.

"That's a common fixture on this continent," I assure him. "Most dwellings have at least one, even very poor places."

That gets an impressed 'hmm!' out of him.

"Don't get too excited," I chuckle. "I haven't fixed it up yet, so it looks pretty awful." It does; the tiles are a queasy shade of off-white that was somehow fashionable about fifty years ago, and the aging plastic in the sink has yellowed to a similarly unhealthy-looking hue. And the walls, god! I suppose at least their offensive shade of pastel pink means you definitely won't linger on the toilet long enough to develop haemorrhoids.

I open the door and catch Zevran's face remaining suspiciously neutral as he casts his eye around.

"Thank God I'm not the only one who hates it," I chuckle, clapping him on the shoulder. "We should go to the hardware shop sometime soon and you can help me pick a colour to redo the walls, hmm?"

I don't linger on the subject; his face hardens a little, and I think it's because he was caught out again. The rare moment that being a doctor is a welcome influence in my personal life comes now as I make references to bodily functions without embarrassment as I explain toilet paper and how to work the water-saving flush buttons.

Though he seems sceptical about using toilet paper, it's quickly lost as he sees the shower.

"What is this?" He points at it.

"Right. This is a shower. I don't actually have a bath, despite the name of the room. Most people have these instead, as they're more compact and clean you more effectively."

I turn the lever and the water comes out. "Pull on this to turn the water on, and turn it left or right to make the water hotter or colder. Be sure to turn it gradually, as it can get hot very quickly, and then push it back to turn it off."

Zevran edges forward and puts a finger under the spray, turning it like he's roasting a marshmallow. "This is luxurious," he murmurs, letting the rest of his hand get wet now. "How often do people here indulge in this kind of thing?"

I turn the water off. "Most people who are able to will wash at least once every two or three days. I wash twice daily because I work with sick people in my clinic, and any day you are in there, you should wash as well, using this to clean your hair," I point at the shampoo, "and this one here to clean your body. Both need to be rinsed out."

It's a lot to take in at once, but he nods.

"Last thing for the day: mouth hygiene. What did you use in Thedas to keep your teeth clean?"

"Rough linen cloths, usually. Sometimes with ground sage to keep the breath fresh."

"Mmm. We don't use those any more." I step over to the sink and take a toothbrush and some toothpaste. "We use this bristly stick and rub it up and down against our teeth, with a little of this," I wave the toothpaste tube, "as a mild abrasive to take the food off. Do that for two or so minutes twice a day. We also have thread that we use to clean between our teeth, which is done once a day. Here, take some floss and I'll show you how to do it."

I take a piece for myself and snap it off, and he does the same, copying me carefully in the mirror as I twine the thread around my fingers and string it between my top front teeth.

"You need to bring the floss right up to the base of the tooth," I say between flosses, and his nose wrinkles a little. A drizzle of blood begins to ooze from his gums, and his eyes dart over to me.

"The bleeding is probably because you haven't done it, and your gums are a little inflamed. Keep going, flossing is a good habit and helps a lot. If that's the reason for the discomfort, it gets better quickly, I promise."

We continue flossing in silence, and then I give him a towel and leave him to it, cleaning the kitchen up before I take a shower and brush my teeth. When I emerge in my pyjamas, Zevran comes out of his room in nothing but a pair of red boxer shorts. I'm quite taken aback; he is very sinewy for someone with such a broad frame, and looks suspiciously underweight as he leans against the hallway wall.

"You are going to sleep?" he asks with a coy smile, arching his back just a little. It takes all of my willpower to hide my concern that he is flirting with someone he has no reason to trust yet. The fact that he is unlikely to have been treated better by anyone else just makes it worse. I offset my unease by laughing a little.

"My body made that decision for me while we were watching the movie. Sorry for flaking out on you like that. Is there anything you need before I do, though?"

Zevran answers straight off the bat, but his body language is slow and calculated, a hand gradually rising in a shrug. "If it will not take long, perhaps you could show me how to extinguish the bedroom light?"

"Oh!" I had quite forgotten about that. There will be a ton of things I take for granted that I overlook, no doubt, and I suddenly feel a little guilty.

"Yes, of course. I'm sorry I didn't show you sooner." I smile embarrassedly. "Thank you for being patient with me while I bring you up to speed. I'm sure it must be frustrating at times."

The mask smile is back in full force, and I pretend not to notice as I step into his room, pointing at the switch on the wall. "Flip this little switch here. The thing on the table beside your bed is also a lamp, but it works a little differently."

It's a touch lamp, another magnificent find from the thrift shop that never fails to fascinate me.

"Just tap your finger on the metal base there to turn it on and off."

Zevran steps over to the lamp and pokes the lamp base carefully, eyebrows shooting up as the light comes on. "Marvellous," he murmurs.

"I know," I enthuse. "Some days I come in here and just tap it for fun. Don't do it too quickly or too many times in one go, though, or you'll burn out the filament."

The smile on my face lingers just a little too long for his liking, it seems, and the one that goes onto his face is cautious and contrived. The lack of trust is losing its sting rapidly, much to my relief, and I give him a nod.

"Anyway, I'll leave you to it. Come and get me any time if you need anything, all right? I fall back asleep easily, so don't worry about waking me."

He nods, and I'm certain he's lying and he absolutely will not come to me unless the house is on fire, but at least he heard the words. With that, I leave his room and go to my own, leaving my door slightly ajar-- I presume he may occasionally want to check I'm asleep and not plotting his grisly demise-- before I flop onto my bed and fall asleep in an instant.

$$

I'm awake the next morning at 9 o'clock. It's pissing with rain, which puts the kibosh on any hopes I might have had of taking Zevran for a walk around the town. Well, unless I find my umbrella or can get some raincoats, otherwise the poor bastard will freeze to death. Getting wet on a cold day, even here, is no joke. No, today will have to be an indoors day until I can get my hands on some wet weather gear.

Hauling myself out of bed, I throw on an undershirt, a button-down shirt, and black chinos, nabbing a pair of dinosaur socks as an afterthought, because I constantly forget to put on long socks before I put my fucking trousers on. The mistake is only minor, but it plants a seed of discomfort that will undoubtedly have snowballed into a panic attack by quitting time. Shaking my head irritably, I step out of my room and make for the kitchen. The door to Zevran's room is closed. I hope he's able to get some sleep; it would be exhausting to be as violently uprooted as he was yesterday.

The rain is driving down now, enough that I can't even see the sea from the kitchen window. It's like living in a fog. Matches my brain. Poor little bastard is working overtime to reroute today's plans. Going for a walk would have been ideal, so that Zevran could observe the town and its goings-on from a distance before he kicked off semi-rural living in earnest.

I slap a hand to my forehead as my memory kicks in properly. And I have to open the clinic today! Why that's even a surprise to me, I have no idea: I'm the only GP, so I open the clinic every day. Granted, today's a Saturday and it's reduced opening hours over the weekend, but still. What the hell am I going to do with Zevran for that block of time? And for the longer hours I work during the week?

Didn't really think this through, did you?

I was fifteen.

Didn't expect you'd be… I don't know, a working adult one day?

I hate arguing with myself. And I hate that the critical part of me always finds a way to make things my fault in a way that's easy to get shipwrecked on. It can't have been better to just leave Zevran where he was and hope that his was an iteration of Thedas with a merciful Warden who would take good care of him. But was it better to just rip him out and drop him somewhere totally unfamiliar, almost as powerless here as he was there? I'm not sure, and it's making my insides freeze.

The panic starts to build as images of his frustrated, disappointed face ghost through my head. He's made no such faces since arriving, but it wouldn't be long. Realistically, what could I offer him? If he wants to go he can, of course.

My heart rate picks up, the familiar creeping of an attack approaching the forefront of my mind much earlier than scheduled. Aloneness. It makes the breath stick in my throat, a brief flutter of light-headedness flashing through me. Fuck.

I squeeze my eyes shut and blindly feel about for a piece of paper from the scrap pile I keep for shopping lists. Writing will help. I need to make a list. Writing will help .

After an age, my fingertips finally snare a piece of paper. A tiny victory. Good. Maybe I can win this day back. It makes me bold enough to open my eyes again so I can take a pen and start writing. The date that I write in the top corner of the scrap of paper comes out a little wobbly from my trembling hands, but it's legible enough. I hope it's the right date, and I frankly don't care at this point. The writing is helping.

Today.

Good start, every list needs a name, and Today is a good name for a list. Breakfast first, and then he can decide if he wants to come with me to open the clinic. I make it a flow chart. If he comes with me, I'll bring my laptop from home and he can sit in the spare office with it; no problem, tech keeps people occupied for ages. I can visit him between patients to help him out if he needs anything, and that'll be fine. We can eat lunch, drop off some flowers for Mam and go home, or we can keep driving around. It'll be fine.

When it occurs to me, I drop the pen and shamble over to the fridge, breaking off a square of dark chocolate and popping it in my mouth. This isn't a blood sugar issue, I know it isn't, but it makes for a wonderful placebo. My 'medicine' takes immediate effect, and the tremor ebbs. Dunno why I didn't think of that when I was in the thick of that shitty episode yesterday.

Improving again, I return to the list.

If he chooses not to come…

I frown, tapping the pen against my knuckle. If he chooses not to come then he's got free rein in the house, of course, but I'll need to work out some safety rules that might not occur to him so that he doesn't--

"Good morning, Van."

I turn around and see Zevran standing in the kitchen donning a red cable-knit sweater and jeans, his hair and smile both neat as a pin. The last dregs of a toasty blush that comes from recently waking are melting off his face, and it's nice to see.

I smile back, hopefully not too brightly. "Good morning!" Shit, too bright. "Ah… did you sleep well?"

There is a pause before he nods. "I... did, thank you. My bed is very comfortable."

Relief.

"Good to know. Well, how about some breakfast, and we can start thinking about what to do today, hmm? We've got bread, eggs, fruit, cereal… I'm pretty sure I even have pancake mix around here somewhere…"

Puzzlement goes over his face. "Cereal? What is cereal?"

"A crunchy, starchy breakfast food that is often devoid of vital nutrients," I reply, assembling my explanation word by stilted word. "So, naturally, it's well-loved by a lot of people."

Zevran's confusion is palpable, but in what I would guess is the remainder of the high from dinner last night, he chooses the cereal. I take the box of preposterously sugary chocolate flakes off the top of the fridge and pass it to him while I fetch the milk and a couple of bowls and spoons.

"It's been a while, I'll eat some, too," I say as I sit down with him. "Just a heads-up, you make less mess if you put the cereal in first, and then the milk."

I open the box and proffer it to him. He peers inside before accepting it and shaking a couple of flakes out onto his hand. Gingerly, he brings them up to his mouth and crunches on them.

Zevran's eyes widen. "This is dessert, surely."

I laugh. "Don't say that too loudly, or you'll be Public Enemy Number One to most children. You can see why I don't have this very often."

A disbelieving laugh presses out of him, but he still pours a goodly serving into the bowl and takes the milk when it comes his way.

"If you want to either add to the sweetness or not be hungry again in half an hour, it goes well with banana," I jerk a thumb at the fruit bowl beside him, and he nods fervently, taking a banana, cutting it into pieces with his spoon and letting the bits fall into the bowl.

Zevran eyes me as I start eating. "Perhaps I could pass you a banana as well?" he edges the fruit bowl closer to me. "Your stomach will not grow properly on this sweet course."

Had it been any other time, I would have declined, knowing I would be uncomfortably full, but after my half-averted panic attack, I don't have it in me to fight a losing battle. I take a banana.

"You said you wished to talk about today," he continues when we're a few mouthfuls in. "I presume you work at your clinic through the week, yes?"

I nod and swallow my mouthful as fast as I can. "Yeah, I do. If you don't have anything you'd particularly like to do today, I could make a suggestion."

"Oh? This should be good. Go ahead." He puts his spoon down in the bowl and watches me intently, one brow slightly raised. It's unnerving. I turn my gaze back to my cereal.

"This isn't something we could do every day, since it might raise suspicions about confidentiality," I say into my breakfast, "but I have some very useful technology that you should start using, and there's a spare office in the back of the clinic. You could sit there while I work today and try them out. It'll get you acquainted with some of the goings-on here, and I'll be close by if you need anything. I'm only on for about five hours today, so when it hits two o'clock we can skedaddle and do something more interesting. What do you think?"

I keep spooning my cereal into me even though I'm quite full already, which somehow seems better than looking at this man while he makes up his mind.

Oh for fuck's sake, look at him. You summoned him here.

Being the slave that I am to my conscience's admonishments, I only manage to get a mouthful of chocolatified milk into me before I drag my eyes up and see him nodding.

"That sounds quite fair," he concedes, "And an excellent chance to admire you in that fetching coat again."

Caught unawares, I snort-laugh so hard that the milk in my mouth makes an emergency exit through my nose.

"'M sorry," I gasp into my hand, trying to cover the mess I've made, and through hacking coughs and watery eyes, I see Zevran biting his lip, eyes twinkling.

"Ooh, I did not know I would fluster you so. Such a charming blush you get, Van!"

My hand drops and I gape at him, exposing the milk seeping out of my nose. "Oh, you mean the charming blush that a bugger gets when they're choking? That's what floats your boat, is it?"

His eyes shut tightly as soon as he catches sight of me, and his hand goes over his mouth for a moment, presumably to stop his jaw quivering.

I squint as the enormity of what's just happened hits me.

"Oh, no," I whimper. "That milk's going to sour in a few hours and everything in my nasal passages is going to reek. Why..."

And fuckin' whoopee for Zevran, he starts wheezing with laughter while I'm shipwrecked on how I'll explain to my patients why I keep grimacing and clawing at my face during their consultations. I reach for a serviette and wipe my face and then the table dry.

"Well, I'm glad you're happy, at least," I mutter as I shake my head.

The laughter draws to a halt in rather short order after that, and I catch myself wishing I hadn't said anything.

Too late for that, though.

I wad my napkin up and throw it in my empty bowl. "Evil man. Come on, then, let's get some machinery together for you, and we'll make tracks for work, hmm?"

While he's off brushing his teeth, I pack up my laptop and headphones, and after a minute spent deliberating over whether or not the headphones will sit comfortably on elf ears, I throw in a pair of in-ears as well. On a whim, I also pack a little roll-up piano I won in a competition at university. Can't hurt.

The clinic's spare office is only used on Mondays and Thursdays when our podiatrist, Laurel, and my best friend Shadi, the physiotherapist, come from town. It's pretty roomy; it has to be to accommodate the equipment Shadi needs for some of their patients. There's a whole bunch of workout machines, a massage bed, a fancy chair for Laurel to work her foot magic, the usual exam table, and of course, a desk. The lattermost of these is where Zevran and I set up the computer and piano for him when we arrive onsite, though he regards much of the other furniture with great fascination.

"These contraptions," he waves a finger at the row of gym equipment going along one wall, "what do they do?"

"Strengthen and condition the body," I reply while I'm logging in. "My friend Shadi works with these to help their patients regain or improve strength and flexibility and the like."

Zevran gives an intrigued 'mmm' and looks back at the laptop screen, which now has a bunch of icons popping up.

"Probably the best thing I can do for now is show you how to work the internet, which is like a library but faster and better." I load up Player , Wikipedia, and Planet to get him started. "This one's for your music, this one's your information, and this is for your maps," I point at the tabs at the top and show him how to click, drag, and scroll with the mouse.

He's sucked in instantly, dragging and spinning the earth and zooming in on various spots on the planet. I can hardly believe how quickly he's taking this all in, soaking up the new information like a sponge.

"Smart, smart man," I murmur under my breath, shaking my head a little.

If he hears me, he gives no indication of it. After a moment, he opens the Wikipedia tab, and I'm reminded of something… rather important.

"Ah. Now. I will need to ask you not to use the computer to look up information about anything pertaining to yourself, including elves, Thedas at large, magic, or dragons."

This is heard, and Zevran quirks a brow as he looks up at me. "Oh? Have people been writing unsavoury things about me in these repositories?" His voice is playful, but there is a hardness in his eyes; the mistrust is back in full force.

I shrug. "I have no idea. I haven't looked up any of that about you either. It isn't safe."

Some of the mirth in his face ebbs, and I beckon him closer, keeping my voice low now as I murmur by his ear.

"I'm not supposed to know about you. The government keeps a very strict list of AUs we can summon a person from. Thedas was one they considered too dangerous, so the stories we had access to were banned and kept secret. For that reason, I doubt you'd find anything on yourself here anyway, but even looking for something may mean they find out I know something I shouldn't, and you will be who they start looking for."

As I move my head away, he looks at me with searching eyes.

"You defied your rulers to summon me?" he asks quietly.

I nod with a guilty smile. "Yeah, I did."

The bafflement in his face grows, and unable to hold his gaze for more than a second, I glance down at my watch. Five minutes until the clinic opens. I make to excuse myself to set up my office, but Zevran speaks again.

"Ah, Van, before you go…"

"Mmm?"

He gestures at the keyboard and shakes his head. "I cannot read these letters. Do you have these in the common tongue?

Oh, god. It's been some ten, eleven years since I watched Shadi illicitly play Dragon Age on their computer, and if I hadn't forgotten it, I probably hadn't even learned about it.

"Shit. Uh, how many letters in your writing system?"

"Thirty."

Thirty? Fuck! They must have digraphs and trigraphs in there somewhere.

A rushed three minutes pass where I read out the English alphabet and supply the letter combinations for the four spare letters (th, ng, ch, and sh) and then scarper back to my own office to open it before Kelly, my lovely receptionist, advises that my first patient has arrived.

Two patients later, I'm back in there while I wait for the third one to show up (Saturday's always a slow day), checking how Zevran is handling the sudden shift in the writing system.

"These maps are quite impressive," Zevran declares to me as I stroll over. He gestures at the screen. "I even found where we are."

"Y-you did?" I look at him in astonishment, and then look at where he is pointing. He's right. Camphor Bay Clinic is right there, large as life. He must have remembered the name from Zippo repeating it back to me. "So you did."

I glance down and the pen and paper I left with him has the name of the clinic written out in careful spelling. Lord have mercy, I was only gone half an hour and he's already getting good with the English language's lamentable orthography. And apparently also with Planet. Smart, smart man. This guy's going to be the terror of the local library at this rate, and my own bookshelves, I don't doubt, will start looking plundered soon enough as well.

Zevran's voice pierces through my astonishment. "Van?"

I look up from the paper and see him regarding me curiously. I chuckle.

"Sorry. I'm just… I could tell from talking to you that you were smart, but to see you in action is another thing entirely." I shrug, unable to string my praise together coherently. "It's certainly obvious how you managed to do so well for yourself in such an oppressive environment. People would have to be foolish to underestimate you."

A smirk turns up the corners of his lips, but his eyes crinkle at the sides. He waves a hand.

"Ah, the trick is to let them underestimate you. Then it takes less effort to carry out what you must."

"Two steps ahead is better than one," I acknowledge with a nod, looking around when I hear the sound of Kelly greeting Geraldine and Angela, who always come in together for a longer appointment each. "Oh, that's my cue to depart. I'll be a while before I can get back in here, I think, so do you need anything?"

He declines politely, and I disappear with a smile and a wave. I end up taking even longer than expected because Geraldine needs two naevi shave-excised on top of her usual monitorings. Long enough that by the time an hour and a half has passed, my next patient has been waiting for twenty minutes, and even though they're sweet about it, I don't like to keep them. In fact, the rest of the day is so busy that I only get the chance to poke my head in once more with Zevran. He's got the headphones on; I can't see what he's listening to, as he's got Wikipedia open-- I think he's reading about Spain-- but the second I'm in there, the headphones are off and he turns around to face me.

He leans forward in his chair and gives me a sly grin. "Back again, my dear! I knew you couldn't resist me."

I smile. "Hah, caught me red-handed. I'm sorry for neglecting you like this. I thought I'd have a little more time between patients to come and say hello, but it's been ridiculously busy today. Can I make it up to you with a late lunch somewhere nice? There's a place at the top of the main street, and its fish chowder is gorgeous."

Zevran's eyes sparkle. "Mmm. The promise of good food and a lovely view is most appealing. You spoil me, Van. I could not complain if you did decide to kill me. My last day has been delightful so far. All I need now is a prostitute and some good leather boots, and I will die happy." He laughs at his own remark, doubling down as I roll my eyes dramatically.

"God," I tsk. "Imagine going to all this trouble to bring you here just to kill you!"

He shrugs nonchalantly, the smile still there. "It is not so difficult to picture. You should hear how much trouble I had to go to when I was to kill my way to Prince Azrin! And in keeping with all of the Crows' regulations, too. Oh, it was an administrative nightmare! Stab this guard, avoid that noble, protect another. I am not sure if I ended up in the river because I fell, or simply because I couldn't stand a moment more of it and chose to escape the scene via the window!"

I truly don't know what to say to that. But I have to say something anyway, because it's a conversation.

"Well, I can't say things have gotten that desperate for me, but life is long, and bureaucracy is even longer, so it's certainly believable." I shrug. "Anyway, if you feel the need to get out of the clinic, please don't use the window. I don't want to frighten the waiter with the sight of me picking glass shards out of you while you eat chowder."

My half-joking request is met with a chortle and a winsome smile. "For you, my dear Van, I will gladly oblige."

"Bless you. Well, I'll come back and see you when the last patient's out, and then we can sally forth."

"As you like."

I leave him to it, and as I make my way back to my consulting room, and to the new patient waiting for me to collect them on the way, I consider suggesting a top-to-toe consultation to Zevran when he feels comfortable doing it. A feeling I'm fairly sure isn't irrational tells me he has likely never seen any kind of doctor in his life, aside from yesterday's session with Tamika. An assessment is long overdue, especially for someone who's led such a rough life until now.

My projected finishing time of 2 o'clock is off by about half an hour, which is quicker than I had anticipated given the delays earlier in the day. I clean myself up and send Kelly home before I step back in to fetch Zevran, who is once again immersed in reading-- this time about doctors, which I find rather flattering. He acknowledges me with a smile.

"So, are all of your patients still alive?"

My eyes widen a little. "I hope so. They left my clinic alive, at least."

He snorts. "Then you have come to whisk me away?"

"Unless you'd rather stay here, yes."

"Oh, no. Not when I was promised fish chowder and the company of a lovely doctor."

"That settles it, then," I step over to put the computer into hibernation mode and pack everything away. "How did you find office living, then?"

I catch Zevran shrugging in my periphery. "Truly, I think I enjoyed it, but whether or not I could spend that much time sitting in one place forever, I am not so sure. In Thedas, such a thing would be a luxury, and now that I am trying it, I cannot be sure it is not simply the satisfaction of attaining something off-limits."

I sling the computer bag over one shoulder and wait for him to get to his feet.

"Not to worry. You have all the time in the world to find out which it is, and there will be plenty of adventure if you want it. Shall we?"

There is a slightly faraway look in Zevran's eyes as he nods. It's enough; we make tracks.