Sticking to Your Strengths
"You can't flirt."
"Excuse me?" She replied with shock evident in her voice.
"Wait, no, you can flirt, just not…well."
"Wanna bet on it?" Hawke narrowed her eyes at the dwarf, knowing damn well Varric could never pass up on a good bet.
The dwarf smirked. "5 sovereigns – next helpless man who walks through the door."
"You're on." She took the amount of coin from her purse and slapped it onto the table, watching as Varric did the same. Then they both sat back with their tankards in their hands, sipping at ale as they awaited her prey.
"No – wait, that's not fair!" Hawke exclaimed as, of all people, Sebastian Veal walked through the door.
"Tsk, we agreed. Now get to it!" Varric chuckled, secure in the knowledge the bet was definitely in his favor.
Hawke grumbled and downed her ale, before shoving away from the table. She straightened her robes and with a confident smirk, she called out to the Prince and, when she had gotten his attention, sashayed her way toward him. Varric frowned thoughtfully as Veal's eyes locked on Hawke's swaying hips.
Minutes ticked by of them conversing, Hawke leaning in to whisper things, fingers trailing over the man's arm. He watched as the Prince swallowed. Finally, the Prince's mouth fell open and his eyes widened; Varric couldn't help but chuckle as the Prince stuttered, before backing away and bolting from the tavern.
Hawke trudged back toward the table, grumbling every inch of the way.
"Good game, Hawke. Thought you had me there for a moment," he grinned as he scooped up his winnings. "Better stick to your strengths."
"Bite me."