"Leske! Leske, it's you!" Frannie had her arms around him and was smothering his face with kisses before he could respond.
Leske was laughing that sort of uncomfortable chuckle he gave when he was with unfamiliar company. She could tell he was trying to size up her companions, to gauge what kind of threat they could pose. Frannie didn't care; he tasted like dirt and ale and sweat. She kept squeezing him until he was able to pry her off.
"Well, chew me up and swallow me whole," Leske said. He looked well-fed and as clean as any duster could manage. "I never thought I'd see you back here."
Frannie giggled. "I never thought I'd be back here!"
"What happened, duster?" he asked. "You miss being spit on?" His voice was warm, but his eyes were trained on Shale. Frannie supposed it was only natural; having a golem around was bizarre at best.
In her excitement, she'd forgotten about the others. Not everyone could understand Dust Town. Too dirty for the likes of Silfee and Nema, they stood bored alongside Shale. Wynne was respectfully quiet while Alistair appeared to be frozen by his discomfort. Only Zevran and Leliana looked to be at ease and perhaps a little too forward with the inhabitants.
"If I said I missed you?" Frannie pressed her forehead against Leske's and beamed madly.
He rolled his eyes. "I wouldn't believe you." He placed a hand over his heart. "A year and not a single letter? I'm heartbroken. I'll never recover."
"Okay, so maybe there was some Warden business," Frannie said. "Something about getting an arse in Ozammar's throne."
Leske nodded. "Makes sense. You do realize that kings would be found in the Diamond Quarter and not in Dust Town, right?"
"Yeah, but Jarvia's down here," Frannie replied.
Leske's eyebrows raised. "Oh."
"Yeah."
"Team Bhelen, right?" Leske asked.
"We haven't decided, yet," Nema said very pointedly. The elf kept staring at the overhanging rock ceiling like it would collapse on them all. Maybe she was daring it to.
"Oh, dwarven politics!" There was actual excitement in Silfee's voice as she clenched her hands into fists. "I've always heard stories. I'm interested to see just how conniving they can actually be."
"I'm hoping Bhelen will be crowned, yeah," Frannie told him.
"I figured," Leske said. "Have you seen baby Endrin, yet?"
Frannie tried to stifle the idiotic grin on her face. She had a hunch it wasn't working. "No, have you?"
That made him laugh. "Nah, if Bhelen's not even showing his face in public there's no way he'd expose his only heir to a possible assassin. I just thought that maybe you'd seen him. I bet he's got that obnoxious red hair like you and Rica."
"I hope not, that poor kid," Frannie snorted. Stone, she'd missed Leske. "But seriously, Leske. Do you know where Jarvia is?"
His shoulders tightened and his voice shrank to a quiet hiss. "Are you trying to get me killed?"
"You're not still with the carta, are you?"
"Stone, no." He darted quick glances over his shoulder. Only a pile of rocks and some moss were there to overhear them. "You think Jarvia'd give me a hug and a kiss for taking down her lover? You and me even talked about taking over once Beraht was gone, you think she can't smell that?"
"Then tell me where to find her." Frannie grasped his arms with her hands. "I won't let anything happen to you, you know that. It'll be just like old times. I'll save your ass and then you can tell everyone at the bar later about how it was all your idea."
"Listen, duster..."
"Leske."
"Okay." He swallowed down a grimace. "After Bhelen took Rica up city, the carta laid claim to your old home. They put a back entrance in. It just goes to some storage tunnels, but there's probably a way into Beraht's old estate from there."
"Thanks, Leske." She gave his arms a final squeeze and then released him.
Leske shrugged. "I better get out of here before anyone sees us here together," he waited for her to nod, "but tell me how it turns out." His footsteps were deliberately casual as he sauntered into the shadows of an alley and vanished.
"Why would they take my house?" Frannie muttered.
Alistair cleared his throat. "Who was that?" he asked. She only now realized just how intently he was studying a broken rune imbedded in the walkway.
"Just a friend." The back of Frannie's neck felt hot. Maybe it had been rude of her not to introduce anyone to Leske.
"A friend," Alistair repeated.
"Yup," was all she felt like saying.
"Why do you never greet me with hugs and kisses?" Zevran tsked. "We are friends, are we not?"
"He's my best friend," she said.
"Ah! It is a shame that he is setting us up, then, no?" The elf appeared more out of place than the other surfacers, with his delicate features and proportions. This did not stop him from throwing his hands back behind his head as he strutted about like he owned the place.
"This coming from the guy who was paid to kill us all?" Frannie snapped.
That got a low chuckle out of Zevran. "That would make me the expert on such things, then? His words did not match up with his body language. He was not being honest."
"Even their peasants plot and scheme like nobles!" Silfee exclaimed. Frannie wanted to slap the smile off the other woman's face.
"Leske's never been honest," Frannie insisted. "That's part of his charm. But he'd never sell me out."
"Surely there are good people left in this world," Leliana said. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other and in doing so, placed herself almost effortlessly in between Frannie and Zevran. "Not everyone we come across is intent on betraying us."
Zevran's teeth were a shade too white against his sun-darkened skin as he grinned. "You need more conviction behind your words if anyone is to believe what you say, sister."
Wynne intervened with a hand placed gently on Zevran's shoulder. "Regardless of whether it's a trap or not," she said. "It's the only information we have at present. It would be prudent to be wary, but that shouldn't prevent us from investigating the home."
"Leske wouldn't," Frannie ground out. "He wouldn't."
Shale sighed. "I care little for whether or not yet another soft creature will betray us. It's simply a matter of will I be crushing one head into a pulpy mass, or will I be crushing several."
"Agreed," Nema said. The mage pressed her hand against the worn stone wall of a home and after a moment, walked to the actual side of the tunnel that the recesses of Dust Town had been carved out of. "I don't know if the integrity of these walls will withstand some of my more powerful spells."
"It's Dust Town," Frannie said. "It will have to."