"Yes, ser—er—milady—er—Grey Warden…." One look at Elspeth's mighty sword, and the poor farmer couldn't get the string of honorifics past his trembling lips fast enough. She hated doing this. The man was just trying to keep his land and family safe, and he had every reason to refuse lodging to the motley band of armored, blood-spattered wanderers on his doorstep. On the other hand, with her companions sorely wounded, a storm growing rapidly on the horizon, and no inn nearby, Elspeth was forced to find whatever shelter she could, by whatever means necessary. As she re-sheathed Yusaris and led the way back toward the barn she had just "negotiated" the use of, Leliana bounced up beside her with an exaggerated shiver of excitement. "Oooh! I just love it when you put on your Teyrna panties!"
Elspeth blinked. "I… my what?"
"You know," again, a delighted little bounce, "when you get all regal and commanding like that. You just look so…" the pause was for dramatic effect, Elspeth was sure. The bard was never at a loss for words, "…magnificent!"
Elspeth sighed. "I don't like doing it. We have no right to just barge into people's homes like this."
"But… you're doing the Maker's work! And you're a Grey Warden."
"Or so I say… well… I say the Grey Warden part. You say the bit about the Maker. Anyway, as far as that man knows we could be bandits come to murder his family in their sleep."
Leliana smiled angelically. "Well isn't he lucky we're legendary heroes instead!"
Elspeth glanced back to see Sten carrying Oghren's unconscious form draped over his shoulder, and Alistair leaning—and bleeding—heavily on Wynne. Even Zevran drooped visibly. "Legendary," she repeated. "Heroes… Right," she shook her head with a sigh that turned into a yawn. "Oh, and Leliana?"
"Hmm?"
"Don't ever talk about my underwear that way again. It's deeply, deeply disturbing."