Of Etiquette and Efficacy

.o0o.

"Akela!"

"We have company," Zevran murmured unnecessarily as he passed the cook pot to the Dalish warrior. Akela cast up his eyes and impaled a chunk of meat with excessive force.

"Hey!" Alistair skidded to a halt beside them. "Akela, you – I can't – you stabbed Leliana!"

Akela ignored the agitated human looming over him and deliberately licked sauce from his finger, nodding in approval at Zevran after a moment's consideration.

"You stabbed Leliana with a fork!"

The elf took a bite, handing the pot back for Zevran to help himself.

"Why would you do something like that?"

Akela chewed his food thoroughly before swallowing.

"I was using the knife to eat."

"That's not what I meant!"

"She, as usual, was hanging over me spewing gibberish about shoes, hairstyles and eyelashes. Also as usual, she refused to take numerous polite hints to shut up and go away. When she crossed the line and actually tried to touch my hair I simply gave her some encouragement to desist."

"You sta—"

"It's just a flesh wound."

Alistair flailed. "You can't just go jabbing people with forks when they bother you!"

Akela shrugged.

"Circumstance," Zevran put in, "would seem to prove otherwise."

"No one asked you! Akela, she's, she's—"

"Pushy? Annoying? Batshit insane?"

"No! Well. Okay, but she's upset. What if she leaves?"

"Hm, yes. Imagine my despair."

"Come on, don't you think you should apolo—"

"I am trying," Akela growled, "to eat my dinner, shemlen."

"But—"

"Zevran, are you using that?"

"Not at all." The assassin grinned. "Bide a moment, my dear Warden." He flourished a rag and ostentatiously wiped his fork clean before proffering it handle-foremost across a crooked arm. Alistair, suddenly aware that Akela's seated position relative to his own upright stance placed his . . . thigh . . . in a certain amount of danger, backed off hastily.

"Fine, fine. I'll just go talk to her. Calm her down. You know. Stuff like that." He flung up his hands and headed for Leliana's side of the camp.

Pause.

"I don't suppose she's leaving?"

"It does not appear so." Zevran was watching the scene over Akela's shoulder.

"Damn it. It's like trying to get pine sap out of your hair, only less pleasant."

"She is hugging Alistair. Ah, and now they have seated themselves for a cozy chat."

"More fool he. If he wakes up with his hair curled and his eyelashes in a jar he'd better not come whinging to me."

"Ah, but she was at least correct in her assessment of your beauteous lashes."

"Don't you start."

"I would never."

"Fucking lunatic shem."

Zevran nodded sagely and set his fork down well out of reach.

.o0o.