Nickname

"I want a nickname."

"What?" Varric looked up from cleaning his crossbow at his companion sitting across from him.

"Everyone else has one," Hawke replied, pouting. His eyes flicked to her painted red lips before he could stop himself. The corner of her mouth twitched with amusement. "Come now, Varric," she purred, leaning forward over the table to give him a better view of her chest. "It isn't fair."

They were at the Hanged Man, an establishment usually stuffed full to the brim with bawdy drunks, harassed waitresses, and one scantily clad pirate who nobody could seem to stop staring at. But tonight Varric's eyes were glued to Hawke, who was practically sprawled before him. She'd abandoned her usual armor for a lightweight tunic; to his agony, the strings which held it closed were loosened ever so slightly and he wondered if she'd done that on purpose. He didn't know her well enough yet to know if that was the way she normally wore her shirts—it wasn't.

He recovered quickly. "Well, what would you have me call you, Serah Hawke?"

Her nose wrinkled. "Certainly not serah. I hardly think a dingy apartment in Lowtown earns me that title."

Varric grinned and continued. "Of course, m'lady. Whatever you desire."

"Oh I don't think you're ready to hear what I desire quite yet," Hawke smirked flirtatiously and he could have sworn she batted her eyelashes at him.

Varric chuckled and leaned back in his chair. "Let's talk names, Hawke." He changed the subject before he slipped and made a mistake. His words were usually his weapon, but around Hawke they tended to turn against their master. Okay, so maybe part of that was the ale. He absentmindedly wondered how much he'd had. His eyes moved to Hawke again and he noticed her tankards matched his in number. Well color me impressed, he mused. Not a lot of people could keep up with a dwarf, much less a Tethras.

Hawke pushed away from the table, removing her ample bosom from his view, flooding him with both disappointment and relief. He noted her blue eyes were glossy and her movements were more fluid. "Right. So Daisy's already taken. What a shame."

They both snorted at the notion of calling the warrior such a frilly name. The dwarf thought for a moment before coming to a sudden realization. "Hold on. It's just occurred to me that I, your most trusted weaver of tales, don't even know your first name. Now what kind of storyteller would I be if I didn't know the name of the main character?"

Hawke laughed again; the sound was light and carefree. It also happened to be Varric's favorite. Her smile lingered after her laugh left her lips and she looked at the dwarf mischievously. "Guess."

"Seriously?"

"Go on. I'm curious," Hawke prompted.

Varric made a show of cracking his fingers and taking a big swig of ale. "Alright then. Let's see. Stephanie."

Hawke made a face. "Really? That's your first guess?"

"It rhymes with Bethany," Varric replied simply. "Thought I'd rule out the obvious."

"In that case, don't bother with 'Barver' or something awful like that," Hawke retorted.

Varric raised his brow. It wasn't often that Hawke mentioned her dead brother. That ale must be stronger than he'd realized. "Okay, how about… Celene."

Hawke laughed. "Maker, now I sound like a mage, or some sort of high priestess."

"It's a pretty name," Varric replied smoothly, "for a pretty lady."

"Ah yes, especially when I get blood and guts on me," Hawke batted her eyelashes theatrically and ran her fingers through her short crop of dark hair. Despite her casual manner her cheeks were tinted pink from the compliment. But maybe that was the ale again.

"Okay, okay," Varric chuckled and leaned forward with mock seriousness. "Obviously I'm not getting any closer with this. How about a hint?"

Hawke leaned forward as well. Their faces were quite close now. "You'll never guess it." Her breath felt warm on his face. She caught his eyes with her bright blue ones before finishing with, "It's Jenna."

"Jenna," Varric repeated carefully, the word feeling strange yet pleasurable on his lips. After a pause he grinned, "So, Jenny?"

Hawke rolled her eyes, "Very creative."

He quickly backtracked. "Alright, alright, no need to get sarcastic. Well, more sarcastic."

Hawke stuck her tongue out at him and he smiled at the sight of someone so tough acting like such a child.

He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "So, Jenna…What sort of name would suit you best?" He took a moment to think about his relatively new companion. She was beautiful, of course. No amount of blood and guts could change that. And Ancestors, was she sharp. He recalled with a grin the first time he'd tried to pickpocket her and ended up with his hand on her ass.

Yes, Hawke was more than just a pretty face; her daggers cut through the air with ease, her tongue was as sharp as her wit, and yet despite all that she was surprisingly kind and good hearted. He'd seen her toss more than a fair amount of coins to the Ferelden refugees lining the streets of Darktown.

To top it all off, he found himself frighteningly drawn to her. His letters to Bianca had all but trickled down to nothing as he found himself spending more and more time with the Ferelden rogue. He enjoyed teaching her the streets of Kirkwall, showing her the best shops to buy sweets, the beaches with the least amount of trash littering the sand, and the best place to get fresh fish.

"Will you hurry up?" Hawke interrupted loudly, enhancing the effect by banging her empty tankard on the table.

Another ale down, he noted. From across the room he caught the waitress's eye and gave a near imperceptible shake of his head. She nodded in response. Can't have her too sloshed to get home. He turned to address Hawke once more. "Sorry, sweetheart, you're a complicated gal."

"That's it!" Hawke laughed. "Sweetheart." She stood abruptly to leave, only swaying slightly as the alcohol flooded her system.

Varric wasn't too surprised. She'd had her fair share, but she'd be fine for the short walk home. What did surprise him was when she leaned over and planted a kiss on to top of his head. When she pulled away she was grinning; Varric was blinking owlishly. "I like that, Varric. I like that a lot."