"We need to talk," Isabela said firmly, bursting through the estate door and pulling Hawke away from her writing desk and up the stairs. She all but threw the Champion through her bedroom door, slamming it behind her before rounding on Marian. "What the hell is wrong with you?" Isabela spat.
"What?" Marian asked, genuinely confused.
"Don't you play dumb. I just had a long chat with our big girl and she told me you've still been taking jobs for Meeran!? Why?"
"Why not?" Marian asked, still very confused.
"Look around you," Isabela held up her arms and spun in place as she gestured to the furnishings, the room, the manor. "You could bathe in gold if you wanted to – that actually sounds like fun – but my point is, it's not like you need the money. So why are you still working for him?"
Marian was speechless for a moment but quickly found her voice. "I owe him a lot, Isabela. If it weren't for Meeran, my family and I would never have made it past The Gallows. He payed our way into the city when we were fleeing The Blight. It only feels right that I do him the occasional favor. And besides, there's something – " she searched for the right word, "I don't know – freeing about mercenary work. There isn't right and wrong and morality and ethics and politics. There's the job. The target. My mission to kill him. Black. And white. Occasionally it's...refreshing," she shrugged.
The expression on Isabela's face grew more somber.
"Isabela," Marian stepped toward the rogue, gently running a reassuring hand up and down her arm."I'm always careful. I know how to watch my back; I stay safe."
"Well, I just - I just don't like it. You could still get hurt no matter how careful you are," the pirate fumbled for an excuse. "I don't like not being there. You aren't nearly as good a fighter as you like to think you are," Isabela finished, trying to hide her emotions with sarcasm.
"I don't even usually have to fight anyone. Occasionally I'll have to take out a bodyguard or two, but usually my targets don't even know what hit them. And if they do see me coming, they move to defend themselves with words, not weapons. And the words I can ignore easily enough," Marian said, confused and slightly annoyed that Isabela was giving her so much grief over this.
Isabela shook her head deciding to cut to the point. "I know. And that's what I– what Aveline was worried about," more lies. "She doesn't like that you have no qualms with the work. That you so callously kill. She worries that...it isn't you, that you're changing, that you're loosing those ridiculous morals that make you...you."
"She is? Or you are?" Marian asked, softening as understanding dawned on her.
But as Marian softened, Isabela stiffened. "She is," she doubled down, still trying to sound upset.
"You keep saying that, but..." Marian shook her head knowingly.
"Balls," the pirate breathed.
Marian stepped closer still so that their bodies were a hair away from each other. "Don't worry, Isabela," she soothed. "I'm still that morally uptight prick that you met at the Hanged Man all those years ago. I just need that bit of freedom from time to time. I need to be able to not think, to just kill, to just...switch off my brain. Does that make sense?"
"I never thought you were a prick," Isabela said softly.
Marian raised her eyebrows. "No?" she chuckled.
Isabela maintained a straight face for a moment before bursting into a fit of laughter. "Ok, ok. I thought your head was so far up your ass that you must be able to see out your mouth."
"Thanks." Marian said flatly.
"Any time," Isabela said with a shit-eating grin. "But, you've grown on me, alright? I just...wanted to make sure you were ok. Don't read too much into it or anything."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
