Note: Sorry I didn't finish this as soon as I intended. School and real life kept happening. Also this chapter could be seen as having a borderline "M" rating for... well... Isabela.

"And the Angel of Death. The hand is over—"

"Wait a minute," Hawke's hand shot out and took the card Isabela was trying to place face-up on the table. She turned it over to reveal a bright red-and-white knotwork pattern. The backs of the other cards were solid blue. "Isabela," She shook her head chidingly. "You couldn't even try to match my deck? Draw again, Merril."

The little elf glanced, wide-eyed, from Hawke to Isabela and back. "But why would she…?"

Hawke gave the pirate a long calculating look before answering. "She wants the hand to end early. My guess is she's got a good hand but not a strong one. She doesn't want to give you a chance to draw something better. Take a card." Merril obeyed, and Hawke grinned. "Oh you want to hang on to that one! Here, discard…" she paused, then pointed to another card in Merril's hand, "… this one."

Merril's face fell. "Oh but I liked that one," she protested. "It's pretty. Why is a dead man better than a rose bush?"

Hawke chuckled. "Trust me. It's better. Your turn, Isabella."

Merril and Isabela each drew and discarded two more cards before the real Angel of Death card at last showed his skeletal face and they had to turn over their hands.

"Serpents of Honor and Deceit, and Daggers of Despair and Avarice," Isabela fanned out her cards on the table and sat back coolly in her chair.

Merril spread out her own cards awkwardly. "Well, I've got the Sword of Death, the Dagger of Death, the, um, Serpent of Death, and this… uh… is that a bell of death?"

"Cup of Death," Hawke put in helpfully. "You've got it upside down."

The elf twisted her head sideways and squinted at the card. "Oh I see! You're right. It's… sort of a grim hand," she added, almost apologetically.

"Still beats two pair," Hawke replied smugly. "Doesn't it, Isabela?"

A brief look of annoyance crossed the pirate's face, but then she shrugged, feigning indifference. "Beginner's luck," she unclasped the golden stud from her lower lip and tossed it carelessly onto the table before swaying gracefully back to the bar. "Though I don't know what you want this for."

"Thank you!" Merril chirped brightly at her departing back, then turned to Hawke with a puzzled frown. "Why did I want it?"

Hawke waited until the other rogue was well out of earshot before leaning over and whispering conspiratorially, "Because Varric bet me a silver I couldn't get it from her. Come on; let's go make him pay up."

Merril giggled and followed her friend to Varric's suite.

I knew her the moment she walked into the tavern. We had never met, but I knew her by the swagger in her walk and the gleam in her eye. So when she approached my table, I greeted her by name. "Hello, Trouble,"…

"Hey Varric!"

Lost in the world of the as-yet-unnamed guardsman and his troublesome female companion, Varric jumped slightly at Hawke's boisterous greeting, and his arm jerked, sending a jagged black line of ink skidding across the page. He sighed and looked up to see his friend leaning on the doorframe and grinning broadly, Merril peeking around her shoulder with a shy smile. Varric could not help but chuckle. "I know that look. What've you done now, Hawke?"

She tossed something small and glittering towards him, and he automatically reached out and caught the thing which clinked heavily against his rings.

The dwarf examined the lip stud with raised brows, then whistled softly. "You have got to tell me how you got your hands on that."

"No I don't," she replied smugly. "That was never part of the bet. Now if it was for two silvers…"

Varric sighed. "Why do you do this to me, Hawke? You're going to be one of the richest women in Kirkwall!"

Hawke shrugged. "I know. I tried telling one of the merchants in Hightown the same thing. He didn't seem to care," she shrugged then, and turned as if to walk away. "… but if you don't want to hear how I got it…"

"Fine… fine!" Varric interrupted quickly, digging into his coin pouch. "Some friend you are," he pretended to grumble. "Don't know what you're even going to spend it on…"

"Soap," Hawke replied promptly. "Have you seen where I'm staying? First thing I'm going to do when that contact of yours comes through with our money is get Mother a better place to live. Maybe we'll move to Hightown"

Varric shook his head. "You, Hawke? In Hightown? Now that's a scary thought," He passed her the coins. "All right; now tell."

Hawke leaned back, resting her hip on the table, her attention apparently focused on the silver coin dancing across her knuckles, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she began to speak. "So, there I was, minding my own business, teaching Merril here to play Wicked Grace, when Isabela walks up…"

"And then I won it from her," Merril piped up excitedly. "With cards!"

Hawke shot the elf a sharp look. "I was getting to that part."

Varric merely laughed. "Why don't you both leave the storytelling to me?"

Hawke smiled sweetly. "Speaking of things you're good at, Varric, do you think you could find out about someone for me?"

The dwarf drew himself up in mock indignation. "What? Did you come in here to take my money and insult me? Do I think I can find out about someone? What kind of a question is that?"

The rogue giggled. "It's a merchant down by the docks. It seems he was killed last night right under the noses of some of Aveline's guardsmen, but they don't have any leads. I thought maybe if there was anyone here in Kirkwall who knew him or knew why someone wanted him dead it might help. His name was Seras Anterral."

"Anterral?" Drawn by the sound of her friends' voices, Isabela had heard the last few words of the conversation. "Is Hastlen still using that old alias?"

Hawke shrugged. "If he was using it last night, he isn't anymore. Aveline wants me to find out who murdered someone who was using that name."

"That's a shame," Isabela remarked with slightly less concern than she would have shown if Corff had announced that the Hanged Man had run out of beer nuts. At the questioning looks of the others she explained, "Torv Hastlen may have been an ass, but the man knew how to use his tongue."

Hawke gave a loud snort of laughter at that, Varric buried his face in his hands with a sigh, and Merril looked confused. "Use his tongue for what?"

"Trust me, Daisy, you don't want to know," Varric answered quickly, before Hawke or Isabela could say anything more. "All right then; I'll see what there is to know about Seras Anterral and Torv Hastlen."

"Thanks, Varric," Hawke shot him her most brilliant smile. "What would I do without you?"

"Stop taking my things, maybe?" Isabela suggested, snatching the lip stud from where Varric had set it on the table.