"You call that dinner? I call it disaster."

"Well, I don't recall asking for your opinion, pointy-ears."

Alistair shot a scowl at Zevran, angrily stirring the contents of a big metal pot cooking over the camp fire pit. Alistair noted that such an act was much clumsier in full armor, but he was determined.

Zevran leaned in and took a sniff of the fumes rising from the pot. He crinkled his nose and practically shivered.

"Your soup smells like Oghren," the elven rogue quipped.

"On my worst day. Hurr hurr hurr." Oghren blurted from the nearby log he was perched on.

Alistair had had it. "I'll tell you what. Oghren, when your head can clear the lid of the pot, I'll let you take over. And whenever I need a dinner stabbed, I'll come calling for you, Zevran."

Oghren tsked. "Somebody's touchy tonight."

Zevran crossed his arms. "Indeed."

"I'm just...trying to cook a nice dinner for us tonight," Alistair said, stirring the pot furiously. "It's going to to turn out great. You'll see."

"Look alive! Fearless leader approaching!" Oghren said, turning to see the newest arrival.

The Warden strode into the circle of tents where the cooking was going on.

"And what impeccable timing!" Zevran said. "Use your magic to turn Alistair's cooking into something edible!"

Alistair pointed an armored finger straight at the elf. "One more word and I'll add you as the main ingredient!"

"I...ah...was actually looking for advice," The Warden said, folding his hands behind his back, noticeably uncomfortable.

"Advice?" Alistair asked, still stirring. "Advice about what?"

"About...women." The Warden practically stammered.

That made Alistair stop stirring.

"Oooo, this should be good," Zevran crooned with a devilish smile.

"And me without a good ale," Oghren muttered.

Alistair gave his friend a concerned but understanding look. "You're barking up the wrong tree, mate. Raised in the Chantry, remember? I'd help if I could, but the lamppost still hasn't been licked."

Zevran arched an eyebrow, now turning to Alistair. "The what hasn't what?"

Alistair sighed, hanging his head. "Just leave me alone, you blasted elf."

The Warden nodded in appreciation toward Alistair, though, truth be told, he had come for Zevran. He knew Alistair didn't have any experience in this field, but he wanted to be polite about it.

"I was looking for advice on...something I can do for Leliana." The Warden said, knowing full well they all had to know about them by now.

"Bed her and bed her quick," Oghren said.

The Warden's eyes shot open and he cleared his throat, feeling the blood rushing to his cheeks.

"Yes...well...I'll certainly...give that some thought."

Oghren chuckled. "Who's to say you haven't already? I know I have."

"Wh...what?" The Warden spluttered.

Zevran held up a hand. "Oghren's...crudeness...aside, Leliana is a wonderful, worldly woman with exotic tastes. You should appeal to those."

The Warden shook his head. "That's just the problem, Zevran. I was raised in a tower my entire life. The only knowledge I have of the world I got from books."

"You Fereldans and your stubbornness!" Zevran cried out. "Your pasts may have limited you, but why be so content to let them continue to hold you down? Surely, in all the time you have spent with her, she has told you what she likes, no?"

The elf had a point. The Warden had to admit it. He paused for a moment in thought, leaning on his staff.

"Well, I do remember the things Leliana told me about Orlais. The clothes, the music, the food..."

"Then it's settled," Zevran interrupted. "You shall cook her an Orlesian dinner, right here in camp, to show her how much you care for her desires."

The elf caught another whiff of Alistair's dish and gagged.

"Preferably something much better than the slop Alistair is preparing to poison us with tonight," he said.

"It's called ghoulash!" Alistair huffed.

Zevran waved him off. "Call it what you will. It still reeks like wet mabari."

The Warden thought Zevran's idea over for a few moments as their squabbling continued. If he could pull this off, he could show her how much he cared for her instead of simply telling her. It would be something. That much was certain.

"OK, I'll do it," The Warden definitively stated, ending the ghoulash argument with all eyes now turned to him.

"But if I'm going to pull this off, I'm going to need help. I'm going to need a plan," The Warden said, smiling conspiratorially, looking at all three of them.

"At your service, Serah," Zevran said, playfully bowing.