[ AN: Act 2 still. Hawke has a new subclass. Probably didn't need to say that, but I've gotten used to putting these at the top now, since these scenes jump around. ]

"Hawke," Anders said flatly. "What are you doing?"

Hawke had wondered how long it would take him to notice. She stayed seated on the Hightown cobblestones - where she'd been tossed by a particularly annoying blood mage - and poured healing magic into her shoulder. She wanted to stitch herself up before trying to stand up. She didn't think she'd hit her head, but those kinds of injuries could be hard to notice. It'd be embarrassing to try to find her feet only to stumble sideways.

"You know," she said, still concentrating on the new healing technique, "for someone who calls himself a Spirit Healer, I'd thought it would be obvious."

Anders' eyes narrowed. "Fine then. Why are you doing what you're doing?"

"My shoulder's injured," she said flatly. "If I cast this fun new spell, it gets less injured. Do you need me to explain how a healing spell works?"

Anders glared at her, crossing the street to kneel down beside her. "You're doing this wrong, let me help you."

"I'm fine," she snapped. "Leave me be."

He ignored her, leaning forward to show her what to do, so she pulled out of his reach with a petulant jerk. He tried again, so this time she kicked at him.

"Maker take you, Hawke," he swore as her boot smacked his ankle, forcing him back. "Fine. Do it wrong if you want. See if I care. When did you become a Spirit Healer, anyway?"

"I'm sorry," she said, voice layered with sarcasm. "Was I supposed to inform you of every change minor change in my life? Are you the Spirit Healer commander for Kirkwall, and no one's allowed to start learning the craft without your express permission?"

"I'm just curious as to why you, of all people, would be interested in something like healing magic. Aren't you worried you might accidentally help someone?"

She rolled her eyes. "I help a lot of people, Anders. If you're worried that you have misjudged me and are feeling the onset of a guilty conscience for how rude you've been to me these past few years, rest assured. I plan on using this healing magic in entirely selfish ways. I'd hate to give your little Darktown clinic competition."

Isabela and Fenris stood a short ways off, too far away for Hawke to overhear anything from them. They appeared to be chatting quietly as they cleaned weapons and armor from the fight, and if she had to guess, probably on the subject of this little debate that had broken out between her and Anders. Isabela kept making exaggerated faces as she talked through a caricature, shooting conspiratorial glances at Hawke and Anders' back. Fenris was trying not to crack a smile, but Len could see he wasn't quite able to keep it from his eyes.

"Wouldn't want to give me competition," Anders said bitterly. "Truly, Hawke, your philanthropy knows no bounds. Why even bother learning a magic designed to help people if you're only planning on keeping it all for yourself?"

She pushed herself to her feet with a groan, using her staff for support. "Well, I got bored one day, though I might try something new for a change. It was this or blood magic, I suppose."

"That isn't funny."

"No, I'm serious," she insisted, though she knew her grin said otherwise. "I found a book on Spirit Healers and a book on blood magic. This seemed the one least likely to turn me into an abomination." She gave him a meaningful look up-and-down. "But that's not 100% effective, I suppose."

Anders made a noise of disgust, turning away. "Just when I think you've run out of ways to appall me, Hawke."

She laughed, but her eyes flicked upward, catching a flash of movement on the dark rooftops of Hightown. "Anders, if you're going to make it that easy by thinking idiotic things like that, it isn't going to be a fun challenge anymore."

"Honestly," he said, "I'm surprised you wouldn't just specialize in finding new ways to set things on fire. Destructiveness seems to be your natural tendency anyway."

Hawke whipped her staff about, throwing a bolt of fire just over Anders' shoulder, probably close enough to singe his feathers. It hit a bandit trying to sneak up on them squarely in the chest, exploding with enough force to toss back the other attackers dropping from the roof to join him. She'd had a feeling this fight wasn't quite over yet. There always seemed to be a few stragglers hanging about after an ambush in Kirkwall, she'd learned.

"Lucky for you," she yelled, already readying another spell to throw. "I'm already an expert in setting things on fire!"