"Ah Commander!" Dorian called from the table beneath the stairs. "Come join us, Maeve is regaling us with yet another tale of tower torment."

As always, the bar was packed following the return of the Inquisitor. And as always, said Inquisitor was already tipsy. The Iron Bull was continuing his regimen of building up her alcohol tolerance, despite the minimal success he was achieving.

Cullen sighed, he had hoped for a quiet evening with her, alone. But when she failed to arrive at his tower, he had gone looking for her. He approached the table, and sent the Bull an annoyed look. The Qunari cheekily grinned and raised a flagon from his usual spot.

"Cullen!" Maeve shrieked happily, swaying violently to the side as she raised both arms to wave at him. "I've missed you." She sighed loudly as she wrapped her arms around his waist, laying her head against his ribs. "You're not wearing your mane." She said sadly, patting his stomach in gentle reproval.

"How much has she had?" He groaned.

"Three shots of whiskey."

Cullen glared at him.

"You know jolly well I can't stop her when she decides she wants something." Dorian defended himself. "But, I promise they were small shots, and not the cheap swill either. Don't want her completely hungover tomorrow, she'll be insufferably grumpy."

"I'm not grumpy." Maeve pouted.

"Not yet you aren't darling," Dorian soothed, "besides you were telling us about that mage boy and his sword." Dorian's eyes flicked mischievously to Cullen, who went from annoyed to extremely annoyed, if his face was any indication.

Maeve frowned, "I was? Where was I?"

Varric chuckled from across the table. "You were just saying how the boy, Varner, had come up to you and asked you out."

Maeve hummed and grabbed a mug of ale, that Cullen seized and substituted for a glass of water which she readily drunk.

"Well, I was in the library studying with some friends. Then he just came up to me and said he had the biggest sword, and that I should go out with him because he could satisfy me."

Cullen bristled, the impudence of some young men.

"I told him I didn't see any sword on him and only Templars got swords, and anyway how could the size of a sword have anything to do with making me full. Nobody eats swords." Maeve reached for another mug of ale, Cullen once again put a glass of water in her hand instead.

Wiping her mouth on the back of her sleeve, Maeve continued. "Anyway I told him he was a liar because he couldn't possibly have a sword on him at all and to buzz off. Some of the other mages started laughing at him, and he got really mad and started to pull his robes up. Then the Templars came and stopped him, I think they thought he might really have a sword on him." She paused, "I'm sleepy. Does the sizes of swords matter? And how would it matter to mages? Mages don't have swords." Maeve grumbled, rubbing her face against Cullen's stomach.

Varric and Dorian exchanged amused glances. "I believe the Commander could best answer that."

Maeve hummed against Cullen, already dozing off.