"I've a question Van," Zevran says to me as he eyes the tub of tattoo removal cream. "If I may."

I give what I hope is a welcoming nod. "Sure thing, Zevvo. Ask away."

"There was something we did not address while we looked at the book yesterday."

"Hah. You'll have to be more specific, mate. There's a lot we probably still need to cover, honestly."

He nods. "Yes… well, you mentioned that one only has a few months to register a Summoned person. But if we are to simply put me down as someone who has always been here, what will happen? Surely that would mean your summoning was not registered, then, and bring quite some trouble."

"Oh, that!" I chuckle awkwardly. That really shouldn't have slipped my mind when we were researching yesterday. I catch myself wondering how long he was worrying about it, or bringing it up, and try to shelve the stab of guilt to focus on answering his question. "Yeah, I probably… should've told you earlier, but I forgot. Guess that dossier got me excited."

He watches me expressionlessly; I've learned expressionlessness means a lot of things with him, but this particular flavour of sphinxlike look is out-and-out mistrust.

"They won't know unless I tell them," I say. "I shit you not! Since they're not allowed to dip into any of that information, registration basically works on an honesty system."

"An… honesty system," he repeats slowly. "Hmm. So you could tell all manner of lies to them, then."

I laugh ruefully. "If only it were that simple. No, once you go to the office and made the announcement, you're obliged to let them check the chip to see when the Summoned person got here. So far as I know, that's the only thing they're allowed to know unless the AUP is given them the right to look into it more."

"And who gives the AUP the right?"

I shrug. "The government, I suppose. But so long as I don't say anything about having summoned you, they have no right to investigate me. Even if they suspected me, I can deny them the right to check anything about me. They'd still send me to jail because I was the closest thing to a perpetrator and I didn't do anything to disprove it, but they'd never get the knowledge."

Zevran's eyelids twitch like he goes to squint at me and then thinks better of it.

"Sorry about that," I hold my hands up apologetically. "I really should've thought to mention it, but like I said when you first arrived, there's a lot to explain about… well, everything here." I smile. "I appreciate you helping me out by asking me things, so don't ever feel the need to sit wondering, all right? Ask any time."

He nods, if a little reluctantly. But a nod's a nod. It's enough.

After a moment passes, Zevran holds up the cream. "Well then, I suppose this tattoo won't remove itself, then, no?"

"True enough." I point at the box it came in, where the package inserts lie untouched. "Before you start, I want you to get into the habit of reading these before you start using a medicinal thing." I pick out the plain-language patient insert and unfold it.

He raises his eyebrows. "What is it?"

"This tells you everything you need to know about the cream. What it does to your body, side effects, what not to combine it with, all the good shit. Now, disclaimer, hardly anyone reads these," I wave the insert, "including my patients."

I can't resist smirking as I add, "Unluckily for you, though, you're not my patient, just my housemate. And so, just like Shadi and Mom and Baba, you'll have to humour me. In hindsight, we should've done this before you started the antiviral, but now is the second-best time to start." I pat the spot on the futon beside me. "Shall we? The sooner we start, the sooner it's over."

Zevran obliges without complaint, bless him. Though he knows plenty about poisons and antidotes, there are plenty of gaps to fill from the ground up, and we end up taking half an hour to get through the leaflet. Once we're done, though, he looks pleased with himself. Confident.

He eyes me with a puckish smirk. "So, will there be a quiz now, my dear doctor?"

I snort. "Sure. One question, are you ready?"

"Oh, I think I am."

"Right. Your question is: do you still want to go through with using this tattoo removal cream right now? Your options are, A: No, not ever. B: No, but maybe later. C: No, but definitely soon, or D: Yes, right now. Do you need your options again?"

He shakes his head. "I will start now, I think."

With a nod, I shoo him off to the shower to clean off.

The procedure of applying the cream is a little more involved than usual. It's not the sort of thing you want anywhere near your eyes, but the package comes with strips that go near sensitive areas to keep it from leaching. He's got one strip plastered over his hairline, which is going to be a bastard to remove, and the other one just about tapes his eye shut.

As soon as the cream's on, he's lying down, mostly at my request. It has to stay on for an hour, and despite the strips being there, I'd rather not risk any of it getting into his eyes. Shadi, who enjoyed the absolute hell out of having an audience like Zevran, leaves the kitchen where they were making dinner to go unprompted to the piano.

"Vannie, take over," they say to me simply, flexing their fingers. "Stir every five minutes. What'll it be, Zevran? Something to nap to? Conversation music? Indulgent crap?"

Zevran snorts. "What is 'indulgent crap,' may I ask?"

"Ah, the stuff I usually churn out. What you heard yesterday."

I hear Zevran hum as I step into the kitchen. "You play so beautifully, I am not sure I can decide. Perhaps something that you enjoy playing?"

"I can hear you blushing in there, Shadi!" I shout gleefully from beside the stove.

Shadi groans. "That entire pan of risotto is going straight up your ass, Van."

"Keep complimenting them, Zevvo! When they get flattered enough, they start screaming incoherently!"

They launch into an obnoxiously fortississimo interpretation of Mozart's Leck mich im Arsch; I resolve to pull Zevran aside later this evening and tell him precisely what a marvellous, if hackneyed musical comeback Shadi has just pulled on me.

I set a timer and stir every five minutes on the dot. I can stir. I can do that. Scrape the sides, scrape the bottom. Move it around. Occasionally, I dart back between songs to get a look at Zevran's face. It's swelling, looks a little inflamed. Pretty well on the money for this kind of tattoo removal cream. Zevran turns down offers of a painkiller, saying he can barely notice it.

Just before bedtime, I leave a packet of ibuprofen by his bedroom door with the patient insert sticking out of the box at a jaunty angle.

§

Today's going to be hellish. I know this because my phone awakens me with news of a message from Tamika.

It's a selfie of her holding up a six-pack of heavily caffeinated energy drinks, grinning wildly. Underneath reads: 'Happy Sunday!'

With a groan, I start typing back.

Oh god. I only need one of those cans and I'm in two places at once.

I know!! That's why I'm holding 6. Plague everywhere!! :(:( Your mother hasn't got it yet though!!

Thank Christ.

And thank you for the heads up.

Want me to bring anything for you?

More gloves and antibac :( And the biggest packet of caramel sharks available!!

Pretty sure they're whales.

Don't argue!! Or I'll make you bring two bags!!

Consider it done! :)

…

Well I'm not complaining!!

I don't know how she uses so many exclamation marks when writing, and then when speaking she's as calm as a bag of sand. God love her.

I haul myself out of bed and go straight for the laundry. I haven't even checked what time it is yet, but it's before the alarm and there's no way I'm getting any more sleep after that. The only way is up.

And, sure as I've got a dick for a head, Zevran's fully dressed and in the kitchen with his back to me when I get there. The kettle's boiling, the toaster's toasting, and plates and bowls are being laid out on the table.

"How's your face, Zevvo?" I ask, skipping the usual greetings.

He turns around from the tea and, to put it politely, the left side of his face looks like he got into an impassioned argument with a wasp. I'm treated to a dazzling smile all the same.

"Good morning, my lovely doctor," Zevran croons. He waves a hand over his puffy cheek. "It is a little larger than it used to be, but not so very painful. Better than most beatings, I assure you. Ah-ah-ah," he sweeps me over and deposits me into a chair as my hand claps over my mouth. "You are thinking too much! There is breakfast that requires your urgent attention."

Tea appears in front of me, along with two slices of hot toast and two bananas.

"Zev, I–"

"Will you have marmalade, or that lovely hazelnut concoction?" Both jars go on the table before I can answer; the guy's moving quick and slippery like an eel.

"Zev," I try again. "Darling. Zev." I reach out as he walks past and gently take his elbow.

He stops and eyes me impishly. "Hmm? What is your desire?"

I pat the chair beside me. "Come and sit. You're running around like a blue-arsed fly."

For god's sake, why do I keep doing this to myself? He's beaming like I put the innuendo straight into his outstretched hands.

Namely because I inadvertently did, but that's beside the point.

"Oh, I can assure you that my behind is the same colour as the rest of me," Zevran purrs as he parks himself in the indicated seat. "But if you would like to see it for yourself, that can easily be arranged."

I open my mouth. Close it. Open it again. And then, finding myself without some witty topic ender, I give up and reach for the marmalade.

He chuckles so gently, so warmly that you wouldn't know a thing of his wickedness from moments ago. "And so what plans do we have for the day, hmm? You will be working again?"

"Hah. That's the understatement of the year." I wave the marmalade spoon in his direction. "The same bug you had– the illness, that is, it's spread to Redwood." I sigh. "From what Tamika has told me, it's going to be a long day. I don't think I'll be finished until long after dinner tonight. For you, though, we have some options."

"Oh?"

"If you want to come with me to the clinic, you and Shadi can have the spare office to yourselves, or you can stay home. Or hell, maybe you and Shadi can have a day out somewhere. We haven't had the chance to do much exploring, you and I, because of work." I chuckle weakly and ignore the pang of guilt at the thought of Zevran sitting at home day after day, bored and alone. "Sorry about that."

Another piece of toast slides onto my plate. "Ah, Van!" Zevran puts a hand on my arm and squeezes it. "All in good time! Did we not visit Luz on Friday? Besides, you said it yourself: I have much to learn about life here, which keeps me out of trouble well enough. Frequent expeditions not necessary."

I shrug. "Maybe not daily, but we should try and get out a little more. Camphor Bay's a very beautiful part of the country, and we've got it all to ourselves. Let's try to get out for an hour or so a few days a week, huh? What do you think?"

He smiles and makes a flourished little bow. "Lead, and I will follow."

"Has to be what you want, too, Zevvo."

"Oh, I could be content with anything," he waves a hand. "Adventures are always welcome, but this time at home is also very pleasant. I make my own little explorations of the beach most days, when I get a moment from learning, so I am quite happy either way, I assure you." He takes a bite of his own toast and chews it with a thoughtful hum. "As for today, I think I could ask Shadi what they want to do and take it from there."

"Fair enough," I say with a nod, and glare at the hand trying to surreptitiously dose me up with more toast. "Zevran, if I eat a fourth piece of toast, I will explode in the kitchen. And do you know what's going to happen then?"

He peers at me through huge, amber eyes. "Hmm?"

"You'll have to be the one to clean all the guts off the windows, because I'll be too dead to help."

Zevran snorts. "What if we halved it, then? Would you explode from a half piece of toast?"

"Like a firework. You're forgetting the tea and banana I've had as well."

"Ah, well," he holds up his hands. "I know when I am defeated."

He doesn't, as it happens. I know this because Zevran and Shadi came to the clinic, and then Shadi wanted to visit Mam, so they came to Redwood and left an hour later. When it's gone 5 o'clock and I finally have my first break, I open my backpack to get my food (and Tamika's caramel whales/sharks) and find two bananas sitting atop my bagged lunch, with a handwritten patient insert on responsible banana consumption stickytaped to them. Apparently it's strongly recommended I eat both.

§

"So let's go over tomorrow's plan one more time."

I chuckle. "Shadi, if someone looked in our heads, they'd see the plan written word for word on the gyri of our brains. We know this thing by heart."

Their noisy tsk snaps through the car's speakers. "Humour me."

I nod. "Sure thing, baby. Get to the clinic around 1, I'll go home and pick up Zev to run our 'errand.' You should have about half an hour after you've picked up the flowers to go home to decorate the place--"

"Lead him in through the back door."

"The back door?" I echo. "He'll know something's up."

"Gawd, okay. The front door. You've stashed his presents in your room, and the-- have you wrapped them?"

I frown. "What sort of question is that? Of course I've wrapped them!"

"I mean, have you wrapped them nicely?"

Ooh, Shadi knows how to hit where it hurts. I'd touch a hand to my chest in offence if I didn't need them both to drive. "Ugh. You underestimate me, and it wounds me."

"No, I'm complimenting you by assuming you've improved since the last round of presents you were expected to wrap." I can tell Shadi's trying not to laugh; their words are breathy and poorly-articulated when they're forcing their lips to stay neutral.

"You are a rude, rude individual," I reproach. "My gift wrapping capabilities leave something to be desired with awkward shapes alone! I'll have you know I bought boxes to put them in this time around."

Why this has Shadi howling with laughter is beyond me, but it does. I hastily turn the volume down so the ringing hoots don't dissolve my eardrums.

"Ugh, anyway. Presents are nicely wrapped, top drawer of the dresser. The balloons are in there, too."

"Can you take Zevran to the library for a distraction?"

I bite my lip. "Mmm? I don't think he can keep wearing the bandage on his face without raising suspicion."

"How's the tattoo looking?"

"Faded, but I think he'll need to do another two applications before it's completely gone. Maybe a month?"

"Argh. What if I run out of time?"

"Try not to. I'm not the best at lying."

Shadi groans. "Not helping."

"Ah sure look, I'll take him up the big bluff, show him the view there. He can take a few photos, that'll be another half an hour. What do you think?"

"That's fine. Okay, phew. Glad we got that worked out." Their voice softens. "Hey. How was Mam?"

A lump forms in my throat that keeps me from speaking for a few moments. After the three huge seizures the day Zevran arrived, function has been down and visits have been getting harder, especially since she found an old photo on her phone of her and my bastard fucking father two days ago.

"Van, baby?"

I gulp. "She said I looked familiar. Asked me if I was any relation to Davis. 'Sure you're the spit of him, you could be his sister. Are ya sure ya don't know him?'"

There's a soft gasp at the other end, then nothing, but the silence is comfortable. There's nothing to say.

Even so, though, Shadi finds something. "You're nothing like him."

I sigh. "That's not true."

"It is, habibti," they insist. "You can still look like him and have some of his traits but turn out completely different, and you did."

"Yeah, well. Look, I'm nearly home, I'd better hang up."

"Wait, wait, say goodnight to Baba. Mom's in the shower."

I give a wet chuckle as I hear the phone change hands. "Hey, Baba."

"Van bug!" His warm, deep voice is like balm. "Hey there, my darlin'. You doing okay?"

"Yeah. Miss you."

My soft, sweet Baba sighs the same way Mom does when she's touched. "I miss you, too. Have you got time to catch up soon? I know everything's been hectic for all of us, but Insha'allah Mom and I are going to see Mam next week. What do you think?"

I pull over to the side of the road and tell Baba I'll call him back in a minute. When I've rung Zevran and enquired about what he thinks of having the folks and Shadi over for dinner, he seems very surprised to have been asked. Still, he agrees to it quite cheerfully, so I shelve my despair that nobody seems to have given a shit about what he wants, and call Baba back.

"Hello, Vannie. Are you good?"

"Yeah, Baba. Let's do next week. Bring Didi and we can have dinner and games at mine afterward? You can meet a friend who's been staying with me."

And help me get him registered.

Baba's already making a keen hum.

"Great! We'll bring dinner. What does your friend like?"

"Mm, he likes everything except seaweed, but maybe just bring something for starters? I've been practicing my cooking, so I thought I'd make something for the main course?"

Baba coos in excitement. "Been playing in the kitchen, huh?" He laughs heartily. "You're a chip off the old block, taking after your old Baba!"

"I'm sure trying," I mumble through a grin. "Talk to you all tomorrow, huh?"

"You know it. But call me sooner if you want to talk, okay?"

"I will. Love you, Baba."

"Love you, too, Van Bug."

When I pull up in front of my house a handful of seconds later, I'm substantially less miserable than I was when I got into the car. And then, when I open the door with an armful of shopping, I can almost smile without forcing it.

Zevran, who is in the kitchen attending to something on the stove, looks around and smiles broadly. As he strides over to me, I notice he's wearing my 'Be nice to me or I'll poison your food' apron. He strikes a pose, sticking both hands on his hips and puffing out his chest to make the writing stand out even more. A snort tears out of me, and he waggles his eyebrows in response.

"It suits me, no?" It wasn't really a question-- or at least I hope it wasn't, because if it is, he'll have to wait for my cackling to die down first. "I think I look quite fetching in it."

I drag in a breath and nod. "The company's so good I couldn't even hold my grisly death against you if you did poison me."

Zevran chuckles. "I hope the food would have been a nice bonus as well. Mmm, Van! What goodies did you bring home today?" He points with his nose at my laden arm.

I hold up one bag. "This is completely filled with dessert foods. I thought we could sit down and try a few of the local–and international specialties at some point, if you like."

Eyes the colour of burnt honey sparkle intensely. "Excellent! I had not made plans for dessert, so these will do nicely. Come, I will show you tonight's dinner."

He goes to whisk me away, but I just manage to dodge the hand that is sweeping toward my upper back.

Surprise comes over his face, and I'd bet money his mouth is open to begin an apology, but I beat him to it. "You don't want to know what my clothes were exposed to at work today. I think I'm going to have to burn my lab coat. Let me go and wash off. Five minutes, okay?"

The lines around his left eye deepen as he gives me a crooked grin. "Then I shall unpack these while you are gone, yes?"

"You're a star, Zev." Once the bag changes hands, I'm gone, washed, and back in the kitchen with 25 seconds to spare (and dripping wet hair as the price).

I rest a hand on his shoulder as I stand beside him at the stove– I've learned he enjoys friendly touches like I give Shadi– and he smiles at the contact, leaning onto me slightly.

"God, this looks delicious," I mumble. "And the smell! Gorgeous."

"Ah, so you approve?" Zevran swaps the hand he's stirring with to put an arm around my shoulder. "This is Llomerryn red sauce. Tomatoes, apple vinegar, a little sugar, and a few spices I found in the pantry. Old, old recipe that Isabela taught me. The Rivaini eat it with just about everything." He jerks his head at the boiling pot beside it. "And I believe Doug sells gnocchi, so you already know what this is, I am sure. It will be an Antivan-Rivaini fusion meal!"

I peer closer at the pot. "There's nothing in there. Just water and some foam. Where's the gnocchi?"

Zevran dips the spoon into the water and pulls up a single one. "Down here. You were looking at an angle. They rise to the top when they are done, you see?" He lets it fall off the spoon, and it sinks out of sight.

"So smart." The sauce catches my eye again with its vivid red colour and thick, languid bubbling, just about has me entranced.

In fact, I think I'm probably fully hypnotised, because everything outside this kitchen has melted away. I'm this tiny, nondescript thing who's engrossed in watching sauce cook, my head blissfully empty except for the glow of happiness from the promise of a good meal and the company of the person beside me.

I'm brought back to the Land of the Living when Zevran gives my shoulder a squeeze. "Are you ready to eat, Van?"

My gaze snaps up from the pan to him, and a smile automatically comes to me. "Yeah, I am. Thank you, Zev. This is so nice."

He very gently quirks a brow at me and hands me a plate with a goodly helping of both sauce and gnocchi. "You have been working all day."

I take the plate with a thankful nod. "You haven't been short on work yourself, it seems."

Zevran sits beside me at the table, jerking a thumb over his shoulder at the sauce. "Tsk. You mean this? The work of minutes."

"Everything can be measured in minutes," I point out. "A year is about half a million minutes."

"Ah, Van, your arguments!" He waves a hand airily. "Go on, try the food."

No (more) arguments from me as I take a bite. The sauce is rich, savoury, and has enough chilli to make it clear it's going to burn twice. As for the gnocchi, I hate to gush but they're delicate, silky pillows of perfection. I think my eyes actually roll as I chew it down, my compromise as I try to stifle what could sound like a frankly inappropriate moan.

His laugh is low and wicked. "Ah, so you approve, hmm? Good to know."

"'Approve' is an understatement," I mumble between mouthfuls; I was hungrier than I thought. "More like I'd build a shrine for these if I had enough gold leaf to do it justice."

"You flatter me now," he says through a modest smile.

I'm not, but he doesn't seem to mind either way, chortling a little as I knock into him with my shoulder. "Tell me about your day?"

Zevran spears one of the gnocchi with his fork and idly zips it around in the sauce. "Well now, let's see. The bank finally transferred the money back for the phone disaster. Perfect timing, because I found the perfume you mentioned Shadi would like for Eid. After that, there was some laundering to do. I washed your clothes as well, I hope you do not mind."

"Hey, wasn't the plan for you to take it easy while you settle in here?" I nudge him with my elbow and he rolls his eyes playfully.

"That was your plan, Van." He pulls the gnocco off the tines of his fork with his teeth. "There is no need to pamper me. I would have done more if it were not for the game!" Zevran taps his fingers to his head. "Ah! I was immersed in it."

I raise my eyebrows. "Oh! I thought you'd started playing Dragon Age a while ago."

He shakes his head. "No, no, I was busy with the dossier and the camera and other things."

"Apparently so! Well, how is it? What do you think?" I set my fork down and watch him.

There's a pause as Zevran shrugs, his face suspiciously neutral. "You are sure, yes, that I am in this? It is the Origins game, is it not?"

I nod, confused, until-- "Ah, you haven't turned up yet?"

"Not so far. I was in the Denerim Alienage, then Ostagar, and then everything suddenly disappeared. Like the computer had completely forgotten what we were doing." His brow furrows deeply. "You are quite sure, yes, that nobody knows I play?"

"Yes I am, the computer has no network connection. What you're experiencing was the crashing Shadi warned about, remember? You need to make saves. Did you see how to make those?"

"Make a-? No. I did not see that. I will have to look for this."

I nibble my lip, crossing my fingers that he doesn't take this as a remark on his lack of gaming prowess. "I'm happy to help you cover some of the basics. There wasn't a tutorial for that game, if memory serves, and most of it's only intuitive if you grew up with computers."

To my relief, he nods, keeping his eyes on his food. "If you have the time and inclination."

"Hey." I nudge him so that he looks up at me. "I've got all the time in the world once I'm home from work. And I'll be glad to help any way I can."

Zevran chuckles, but it sounds contrived."You spoil me, Van." He points at my dish. "I think I made enough of this for tomorrow as well."

"You put enough on my plate to cover two meals alone." I raise an eyebrow at him.

That apparently warrants another handwave of dismissal. "Bah. There is barely enough there to feed a bird."

"Only if it's an ostrich."

"A… what?" He frowns.

"I'll show you one later. Do you want to play Dragon Age?" I've been picking away at my dinner as we chat and now I'm reaching the overfull point, which is especially driven home at the prospect of kicking up a good game with good company.

Zevran makes a show-- as he has done almost every night since he got here-- of looking over what I've eaten. "Have you tried your best?"

I chuckle. "I'm loath to part with the rest of this, but I've nowhere to put it."

"Ah, I believe you. Tomorrow's lunch then, perhaps? I can have something else made for the evening meal."

"It's my turn to cook the next dinner, in case you forgot." He's complained multiple times about me not resting enough after work, and has beaten me down from our original agreement of 50/50 cooking duties to 20/80. My comment is met with a squint until his brows suddenly un-knit.

"Then we shall cook together," he declares. "I have a recipe to share with you, and I instruct best through speaking and demonstrating."

"You realise you're just suggesting you cook with an audience, yes?"

Zevran touches a hand to his chest, looking dramatically wounded. "I did no such thing. My lessons are very interactive!"

I elbow him. "Toad man. Come on, are we going to do Dragon Age?"

He gives me a smile as smooth as velvet. "This discussion is not over, Van, but yes. Dragon Age it is."

When we've cleared the table and put the leftovers away, we adopt our usual spots on the couch: me in the middle, Zevran to my left. The laptop's up and running, and so is the game shortly after.

"Let's just see if there's anywhere we can resume the game from…" I point at the Load Game option. Zevran opens it, and the log is blank. "Ah. Autosave must've been switched off. We can fix that when we're in-game. Sorry, Zev. Guess it's back to the beginning."

I vaguely remember how far along Ostagar was; it was a good hour's work if you were quick, and many times that if you were a completionist. But if he's impatient or annoyed, he doesn't show it, instead giving a loose shrug.

"Ah, well. These things happen. Time to make another Warden, then?"

"'Fraid so. But if you want to skip hearing the Canticle and scenes like this, you can hit this key up here to speed things along," I hover my finger over the Escape key, and Zevran taps it quickly.

"Marvellous," he murmurs. "I heard enough of the Threnodies in Antiva."

He gives me a wicked little smile when he catches me snorting behind my hand, and turns back to the screen. "Now… last time I was an elven Warden. A dashing rogue from the Denerim Alienage."

"Oh, yeah? Did the Warden look anything like you?"

"Ooh, Van!" he snickers. "You must think my ego is enormous! Next you'll be accusing me of trying to bed myself!"

I shrug. "Not as if that isn't an option in the game."

Zevran's eyes widen.

"Oh, shit. Did I not mention that?"

He shakes his head, looking positively thrilled. "I had no idea my prowess was on display for all and sundry!"

"Hah. Only a select few now, but back in the day I imagine there were quite a few witnesses. There are four people in this game that the Warden can romance. There's you, Alistair the templar guy, Leliana the redhead, and Morrigan-- did you see her? Black hair, gold eyes…"

"Ah! Yes. Yes, I remember all of these." He turns back to the screen. "Mmm, the agony of choice… remind me, Van, whom did you play as? It was the human mage, was it not?"

" I didn't do anything," I remind him. "I watched on as Shadi played. But yes, they chose a human female mage Warden. Even gave her my name and tried to style her like me." I roll my eyes. "We looked nothing alike."

"No, such beauty is impossible to replicate," he croons and gestures at the lady in the character creation screen. "What hope do these poor women have against you?"

I snort. "Flattery won't get you anything you don't already have, Zevvo."

Zevran flicks his eyebrows at me. "And what if I'm only telling the truth, hmm?"

A snicker hisses between my teeth. "Come on, you. That poor Warden's been waiting for your attention this entire time."

He's the picture of innocence with his sweet smile and slow blinks as he returns to the task at hand.

"Mm, I suppose being a human mage is the obvious choice if I am to learn what you and Shadi know about me. Certainly there would be some difference compared to playing as an elf. Though it would be a little strange to replicate you."

"Hah. It's your Warden and you should do as you please." I chew on my lip for a moment. "but if I had to cast a vote, I'm all for being the only Van in the room."

Ten minutes later we have a handsome brunet called Maximiliano who's about to undergo his Harrowing, and Zevran has learned to save his game. It's not until he's in combat in the Fade that I realise Zevran is playing on a touchpad. A touchpad! Argh! He doesn't even know the WASD keys!

"Ah! God, wait, I have something that will make this easier. Pause the game!"

He keeps frantically clicking, attempting to guide this unfortunate mage away from the path of a wisp between spells. "Pause? There is no pause!"

I reach an arm out and tap the space key, and everything goes still. His eyes widen and he turns to face me. "I should have asked you to show me this game before I started. I think things would have been somewhat... smoother, shall we say."

"Mmm. You need to learn the keyboard controls, too, because this clicking business is just agonising."

It only takes a moment to show him where to pull up the in-game menu, see his inventory, and a few other shortcuts, but gee, what a difference it's going to make!

Especially when I leave and come back with a mouse for him. "You can't play something like this with a touchpad. It's death by a thousand cuts." I plug the mouse into the port and show him the scroll wheel.

After a few minutes of trying out everything he's learned, Zevran and Maximiliano are blitzing their way through the Harrowing. The sole remaining difficulty is revealed when I observe the awkward angle his arm's at with the mouse, elbow pressed up against the cushion and wrist bent like he's trying to make it concertina. Shadi would openly weep if they saw this.

"You'll find that position's going to wear thin pretty quickly," I observe out loud.

Zevran pauses the game and looks at the disaster that is his right arm. "Mmm, I think you might be right."

"Shadi handled it by sitting on the floor. I think that's how I ended up doing their hair, too, if memory serves." I rub my chin. "I sat on the bed behind them, you see, and they were the perfect height for it."

A frown comes to me. A desk would be the obvious solution, but I never bought one. Awk. Ward.

When I go to add that the dining table is also an option, Zevran is already sliding off the couch and onto the floor. He nods approvingly as he leans back, his arm far less crammed away now. There's just one more thing he needs…

"Zev?"

He looks up with a smile. "You rang?"

"Do you want the squish?"

"The… squish?"

I can feel my eyes widening as I give him what must be a rather wild nod, which to his credit he meets with his usual charm.

"The squish," I explain like I'm accepting a prize for it, "is something Shadi and I developed. You take all the blankets and pillows and make an enormous, mushy heap behind your back to adopt the ultimate slouch."

"Mmm! You have me intrigued now. What should I do?"

"Lean forward, my friend."

He does so immediately, watching on as I carefully fold and pack the covers behind him, followed by cushions that follow the contour of this blanket mountain. When the job is complete and he settles back against the squish, a smile comes to him quickly.

"Ah." He nods, rolling his shoulders as he relaxes into it. "Your pride is not misplaced, my dear. A stroke of genius on your and Shadi's part."

I give my head a smug little wobble and tap my temple with my finger. "Up here for thinkin', down there for dancin'."

Zevran points his nose at the rather sizeable patch of unoccupied squish beside him. "Perhaps you would care to join me? It seems a pity not to enjoy your own handiwork." He smiles smoothly at me.

I can't tell why he suggested it. It's hard to know whether he wants company or is simply doing what he thinks he must to save his skin. How do you ask someone if they're worried you might attack them from behind while they're engrossed in their game?

My answer is too slow coming, and I could kick myself when I see his smile falter momentarily as he quickly adds, "Of course, I don't doubt you have more important things to do than be stuck beside me for the evening. A mere suggestion if you find you have no better plans."

I shake my head quickly. "No, no. Sorry, I-- I'd really like that, if you're happy for the company. How's about you start, and I'll bring us some dessert to pick away at?"

Zevran's smile softens around the edges and he nods.

Good save, Van.

I quickly get to my feet before one or both of them can end up in my mouth, and scuttle away to the kitchen to fetch some lemon water and one of the snacks I found at Doug's today: a sort of red liquorice Shadi's been pestering me to try for years.

With laden arms, I return and see the screen hasn't changed since I left.

"Hey, you haven't started yet?" I sit down beside him and unload the goodies into the space between us.

When I look up, I see him watching me with a droll grin.

"And have you miss any of our grand adventure?" he purrs. "Perish the thought."

I'm caught off-guard. It's such a tiny thing, waiting for someone, but when it's Zevran doing it, it seems so much bigger. He doesn't think twice about sharing whatever he can when the opportunity comes his way, and I can't tell if his pausing a game for two minutes while he waits for me is making my heart swell, or break.

I play it safe and keep my mouth shut in case my voice gives me away. Something nonverbal will have to do, and I opt to reach out and give his shoulder a squeeze before settling down beside him. He smiles; it's enough.

The night goes far longer than I would have anticipated. Long enough that there's no night left by the time we've saved and closed Dragon Age. We've somehow managed to sink seven hours into gameplay, interspersed by one outraged phone call to Shadi informing them that the liquorice is abysmally awful.

"Jesus Christ, Shadi! You've been on my tits for years convincing me to eat this red plastic shite!"

"Oh my god! You bought the Red Vines?"

"I can't believe I did. And Zevran ate them, too."

There is a coo from the other end. "Hi, Zevran!"

Zevran chuckles. "Hello, Shadi. These Red Vines are… unfortunate."

"That's the understatement of the feckin' year," I pick up my rant from where I left off. "We'd've had a better experience eating candle wax!"

There's a loud, decidedly hysterical cackling on the other end before the phone beeps and the call is over. Subsequent re-dials are rejected. Fucking Shadi.

"I think I'm going to need a scraper of some sort to get the remnants of those bloody things off my teeth," I grumble as Zevran shuts down the laptop.

He runs his tongue over his teeth, humming in agreement. "Not one of the better sweets I have tried here, I am afraid."

"Maybe next time I should actually try them beforehand so I know what I buy is good."

"Ah, but this is much more fun!" He grins broadly. "I would never have seen your face collapse into itself like it did had we been biting into something delectable."

I snort. "What am I going to do with you?"

Oh, that wasn't the best question to ask. I'm playing right into filthy joke territory now, and his gleaming eyes confirm that I've done just that.

"Mmm, Van! I can think of several things you can do with me."

I shake my head and rub my brow. "God, I hope none of them involve eating another Red Vine, otherwise I'll have to flee and eke out a life as a snake in someone's barn."

He's biting his lip, trying not to laugh--or maybe he's just squinting at me like the freakshow that I am. I don't care which it is; I'm just relieved I diverted him.

"Anyhow, it's one-thirty in the morning, and I'm pretty sleepy. Work tomorrow. You know where this is going."

He waggles his brows. "Up the stairs, no?"

I nod again. "Yep, to take the direct route from teeth cleaning to unconsciousness." My mouth pulls into a smile. "Thanks for letting me watch you play. I really enjoyed it. If you ever want company again, you know who to call."

He brushes his chin with the pad of one finger, fixing me with a wry grin. "Be careful, Van. You'll tire of me soon enough if you give me free reign to pester you, you know."

A laugh bursts out of me that takes him aback. "Hah. No, I won't. Silly bugger." As he stays ensnared in his silent state, I clap him on the shoulder to ease the tension. "Night, Zevvo. Catch you in the morning, hey?"

Ah, and there we go. Smile in place, and a nod that's almost theatrically smooth when the rest of him is frozen solid. "Goodnight, Van."