Competition

Hawke was a flirt. She couldn't help herself. Put a handsome man or a pretty lady in her line of sight and she was the first to come up with some inappropriate comment. It was interesting to Varric that she never pursued her targets with much more than that. She was in it for the sport, and seemed bored or even uncomfortable by anything more. He noted that she hardly ever flirted with Isabella. She's probably too scared she'll end up in her bed.

And so it was with little surprise that one otherwise quiet evening at the Hanged Man was interrupted when Hawke burst into his quarters, a frazzled look on her face.

"Ugh, men," she said simply, before slumping into the nearest chair.

"What happened this time, Hawke?" Varric asked as he got up to pour her a drink. He was used to her regular intrusions into his quarters. In fact he rather enjoyed that she sought him out for advice.

"This time? I wasn't aware I was getting a reputation." She looked into the fire and frowned.

"You've had your string of…pursuers," he replied coolly as he handed her a glass of whiskey. He broke into a grin and placed a hand on her shoulder in an effort to lighten her mood. "C'mon, Jenna, you can tell me. What happened?"

"Oh it was Anders," she replied flatly. "I make one harmless joke and he gets all, 'stay away from me, I'm dangerous'." She stuck her tongue out in an adorable fashion. "Pfft. Dangerous. I think I've handled myself quite well enough that by this point I shouldn't have to be warned off by… by skinny birdmen and mopey elves!"

He pulled his hand from her shoulder as the hairs on the back of his neck pricked up. Mopey elves? So she's been talking to Fenris too. He told himself it was concern for his flirtatious friend—he almost believed it, too. "Well, Anders is… complicated. So is Fenris. You've picked some difficult men to woo, Hawke."

"I'm not wooing them," Hawke snapped. "I like to joke. It's not my fault they take it so seriously."

"So you're not pursuing them?"

"Why the sudden interest, Varric?" Hawke grinned mischievously.

"I'm just trying to figure out why you lead these men on like they're a mabari on a leash."

"No, I'm not interested in them. Not like that." She swung her boots onto the table.

"Anders seems…mostly well adjusted," Varric offered. The other night in the tavern he'd found the poor mage pining away in the tavern and he'd promised him he'd put in a good word with Hawke.

"Pfft. If he's well-adjusted, then I'm a fire-breathing nug," Hawke snorted.

"And Fenris?"

"Also crazy. Plus he's too skinny," Hawke replied simply. "I like my men a little heartier than that." She eyed Varric conspicuously. Varric chose to ignore the comment and after a moment Hawke shrugged. "Well, looks like I'll have to cut my tongue off or else it's no more friends for me."

"We're friends and you seem to be doing just fine," Varric countered.

"Well that's different," Hawke replied smiling.

"Oh?" Varric's brows rose. Different good or different bad?

"I actually quite like you," she said simply.

The dwarf shook his head and chuckled. "You're doing it again, Hawke."

"Doing what?" Hawke smiled broadly. Her eyes were sparkling with delight. She really did enjoy the chase.

"Flirting with no intention," Varric replied patiently, taking another sip from his drink.

"Who says I don't have an intention?" Hawke shot back immediately.

Varric nearly choked. Surely this was another joke. Yet Hawke was giving him the most curious look; a slight smile lay on her lips but her eyes were sharp and serious. He opened his mouth to reply and for once found himself at a loss for words.

Her smile faltered. She quickly stood, cheeks burning. "Right. Well, thanks for the advice, Varric. You're… a good friend as always."

Varric's mouth opened and closed again, but before he had a chance to speak she was already gone.

"Sister?" Bethany mumbled, half asleep. "What on earth were you doing out this late?"

Hawke looked up guiltily from her crouched position. She'd been climbing through their window. Clearly not in top form tonight, she realized. Jenna had done this hundreds of times without waking her sleeping sibling. She cleared her throat awkwardly. "Oh you know, this and that." Her voice was tight and strained. She hoped her sister wouldn't notice.

But Bethany smiled sympathetically, scooted over, and patted the bed. "Come tell me what happened."

Hawke gave a thin smile and finished her less than graceful entrance. Kicking off her boots, she climbed into bed next to her sister.

"What's wrong?" she asked with concern. "Was it Anders?"

Hawke rolled her eyes. "Everyone seems to think so, but no, it was not."

"Fenri—"

"And it was not Fenris or Isabella, thank you. Maybe Varric was right."

"Varric?" Bethany cocked her head and peered closer at her sister. "Oh Maker. You're in love with Varric."

"Who said anything about love?" Hawke snapped, bringing her knees into her chest. The mage gave her a firm look and Hawke was forced to crack the tiniest of admitting smiles.

"I knew it!" Bethany crooned.

"Shh! Do you want to wake up all of Lowtown with this new information?" Hawke hissed.

"Sorry," Bethany whispered, recovering slightly. "So what happened? Did you tell him?"

"He didn't believe me," Hawke said shortly. "He thought it was a joke. I'm a bloody joke to him."

"Oh Jenna, you know that's not true." Bethany placed a comforting hand on her sister's back. "He was probably just surprised. You do have a habit of flirting with nearly everyone… he just didn't know you actually meant it."

Hawke sighed and flopped back onto the bed. "I'm never flirting again."

"Right," Bethany smirked. "I'll believe that when I see it."