Up to Scratch
.o0o.
"Akela, I know you're in there."
Apart from an irritable rustle there was no response. Encouraged, Alistair squared his shoulders and continued to address the dense thicket.
"Fine, be that way. I'm still going to have my say while you're sulking, okay? It's just— I mean, do you have to be so, so you all the time?"
There was a growl in return.
"See, that's what I mean! Why can't you be more, I don't know, more approachable? We're the good guys, in case you forgot."
Hisss.
"Yes, we are!"
"My dear Alistair." Zevran cleared his throat, having approached unnoticed. "If I may—"
"No! You may not!" Alistair snapped. "I'm talking to Akela, not you, and no one asked you to come butting in!"
The assassin held up his hands and made a key-turning gesture over his lips before retreating a few paces, where he leaned against a tree to watch with folded arms.
"For instance," Alistair resumed after a final glare, "did you have to just shoot that fellow in the eye yesterday without any warning? Well, okay, he did turn out to be heading an ambush, so bad example, but you get the point, right? Diplomacy? Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying I want to take over the lead, no, not that, really. I just think your decisions, well. When a fellow makes a simple mistake and gives you a message to deliver, well, I'm sure he didn't know any better than to call you a tattooed savage knife-ear, but don't you think making him eat the letter and then telling him to deliver it himself by, er, dropping it upstream from the recipient was excessive?
"After all," he continued over the answering incoherent snarl, "we're Grey Wardens. We're the heroes, right? We've got a duty to uphold. Honor. Just think how disappointed Duncan would be to see how his recruit was representing the Order."
Fsssth-PAH!
Alistair paled, then flushed.
"Did you just spit? You just spit, didn't you! Right, that's it! C-come out of there, right now!" He strode determinedly into the brush.
"Gaaah!"
He backpedaled frantically out of the brush with an infuriated wildcat attached to his mail and doing its level best to claw its way through.
"Gettitoff! Gettitoff! Aaaah!"
Zevran turned his head at the light step from behind and nodded a greeting to Akela, who approached to stand beside him, bow in hand and three brace of freshly-killed woodcocks slung over his shoulder. The Dalish Warden watched expressionlessly as Alistair flailed at the squalling bundle which had now gripped his arm and was briskly raking its hind legs across the metal with molar-shivering screeches.
"Is there even any point in my asking?"
"AaaAAAaaa!"
"Mm, no." Zevran considered. "No, I rather think not."
"Fair enough." Akela unlimbered his catch. "I'll go get these ready for the common pot."
"Allow me to accompany you, my dear Warden."
"Aargh! Noo! Not the hair!"
.o0o.