The Herald's Rest was an easy target for derision. The ale was never as good as it was in Orzammar, Denerim, Val Royeaux or wherever the complainant considered to be home. The floors were sticky. The food consisted of an unidentifiable grey meat. The service was surly. The bard never shut up. There was always a weird smell with distinct undercurrents of stale sweat, wet dog and either piss or beer. Nobody was ever sure which was which on the latter and many debates had raged late into the night trying to decipher the difference.

Despite the endless, casual mocking of the pub, there could be no denying that the Herald's Rest was a crucial hub within Skyhold. At the time of the opening, the newly-appointed Inquisitor had buoyantly proclaimed "The team that drinks together wins together!" This caused a rather diverse reaction amongst her inner circle- Sera, Bull, and Varric had whooped and cheered, Solas and Vivienne shook their heads in disgust, Cassandra buried her head in her hands (but managed to resist grunting) and Josephine flustered at the boorish exclamation, her mind working overtime as to how this could be spun into something that did not actually encourage mass binge drinking amongst the citizens of Skyhold, as well as worrying about all the future fires she could envisage having to put out due to the new leader's lack of decorum.

The inn acted as a scarily accurate social barometer to judge the morale of the Inquisition's forces at any one time. Cabot could always sum up the mood in a single word but it usually just took a couple of steps inside the door to gauge if things were going their way or not. If it was quiet, the troops were anxious. If it was boisterous, a great victory had just occurred or was confidently expected. If Maryden was singing a slow song, the mood was contemplative. Or she was trying to soothe away the collective headaches of the hungover team, an effort that usually resulted in tankards or shoes being thrown in her general direction.

This evening, though, the mood was decidedly mixed and could not be read as easily as usual. What had started as an evening full of high spirits had dampened down somewhat when their illustrious leader had made an appearance. She had been greeted with a customary cheer but didn't even appear to acknowledge the warm welcome. Instead, the Inquisitor had shuffled with her head hung low to the bar, sat on an empty stool and placed her forehead on the slightly beer-sodden counter. Jemima had not moved from this position for the last half hour.

Bull, with his understated powers of perception, had immediately leapt into action as soon as her head had hit the bar, first telling Krem to "go get Dorian" in a hushed tone then loudly booming "That's the most half-assed attempt at burning the candle at both ends that I've ever seen! Told you that you couldn't keep up with me and Sera" as he sauntered over and blocked the crowd from Jemima using the sheer scale of his body. The tactic worked and chatter resumed once it became clear that there would be nothing more to see here, although wild whispers could be heard hissing through the air. "You ok boss?" Bull quietly enquired. He was met with silence. The Qunari sighed and resumed his bodyguard duty. After a few minutes, the Inquisitor briefly snapped out of her catatonic state to blurt out "I'm a woman?" then returned to the frenzied inner workings of her own mind, all of which more or less confirmed Bull's suspicions that their leader had lost the plot.

Dorian went against his better nature and surreptitiously slid to Jemima's side when he eventually made it to the tavern. He quirked an eyebrow at Bull, who shrugged his massive shoulders in response. "Has she said anything?" the mage queried.

"Nothing other than remembering she's female."

Gingerly, Dorian sat in the adjacent stool to Jemima and placed a comforting hand on her arm, which was dangling due to her slumped position. No reaction. With a sigh, he looked up at Bull and said "I have an inkling as to what has happened." The giant warrior slightly raised his eyebrows. Facing away from Jemima and using his hand to whisper an aside, the Tevinter explained "I believe our poor friend has had her advances spurned," shaking his head in pity.

"Ah" Bull nodded. After a brief pause he asked "Cassandra?"

Perplexed, Dorian quizzically started "how did you..?"

"Ben Hassrath, remember?"

"Of course. How could I ever forget" the mage grumbled. He turned back to Jemima and placed his arm around her shoulder, cooing gentle words of encouragement in her ear, again to no response. Resignedly, he beckoned Cabot over and ordered an Antivan sherry for himself and a Qunari ale for Bull. Handing the drink to the warrior, he added "a token of my thanks for looking after her. For a hulking great brute of a man, you do surprise me with your sensitivity."

Bull grunted a noise of approval. "Don't let that become public knowledge. Diminishes the whole mindless weapon persona I've spent years crafting. Besides, I did it for the Boss and the morale of the soldiers, not for you, Vint."

"Ah, and there it is." Dorian rolled his eyes. This again. How many times did he have to explain that his country of birth had no sweeping correlation with his character? Sounding bored, he explained "I may be a proud member of the Imperium but that does not necessarily mean I share many of the stereotypical attitudes and behaviours the rest of Thedas believes we homogeneously hold. I am neither a maleficar nor a megalomaniac and I am as much of a pariah in my homeland as I am in Skyhold, I'll have you know."

"Mmmhmmm" Bull dismissively grunted. "That may be true but my experiences have taught me to never trust a Vint so I'll be keeping my eye on you."

"Oh for the love of..." the mage threw his arms in the air in frustration. Exasperated, he argued "I have fought and killed more of my countrymen in the name of the Inquisition over the recent weeks than most of your Qunari compatriots have in their lifetimes. I shared intelligence with the advisors and placed a dear friend in danger as a result. I turned against my mentor because it was the right thing to do and brought the fabled Herald of Andraste back from the fucking future for crying out loud! What more do I have to do to prove my loyalty?!"

Bull calmly took a large swig of his drink then looked Dorian directly in the eyes, answering "I've also found from experience that the pretty ones are always the worst." Casting a glance up and down, appraising the mage, he concluded in a low rumble "they need to be watched the closest."

The Tevinter mage was rendered speechless and blinked in disbelief. A small smirk crossed the giant warrior's face, smug with the knowledge he had gleamed from the interaction. Dorian flustered "b...but that's preposterous! Not me being pretty, of course not, but..."

"Dorian of House Pavus flabbergasted?" A small mumble snapped both the warrior and the mage's attentions to the pathetic figure at the bar. Sitting up, turning and rubbing the small of her back she continued "I never thought I'd see the day" finishing with a weak smile.

"She speaks!" Bull laughed jovially.

"Welcome back to reality, my dear friend." Dorian reached over and patted her shoulders, giving her hair a ruffle when he was finished. "So, do you want to talk about it?"

The Inquisitor rubbed her flushed face, wiping long dried tears away from her eyes and cast a glance at Bull. Taking the hint, he made his excuses and returned to the Chargers. Struggling to piece together the fragmented thoughts in her head, Jemima opened with the short version- "she rejected me, as you've probably worked out."

Sitting back on the stool, Dorian swivelled to face Jemima and grasped both her hands, pulling them so she turned to meet his sympathetic gaze. "I'm so sorry, Trevelyan. Truly." Giving her hands a gentle squeeze, he remained quiet, waiting for Jemima to find the words. She opened her mouth several times to speak but nothing came out. Dorian decided some alcoholic beverages may aid in lubricating the mute Inquisitor's tongue and ordered two more sherries. Handing one to his friend after Cabot had obliged him, he prompted "Why don't you just start by telling me what happened when you got back, hmm?"

Jemima nodded, placing her drink back on the counter and then slapped her cheeks a few times to find some focus. Knocking back the drink in one, she signalled to the bartender for another. "I don't even like sherry to be honest" she gave a light snort. "Thank you Cabot. Keep them coming." The barkeep slammed the bottle next to the pair and walked away. "Service with a smile as always" Dorian quipped as he refilled Jemima's glass. "So..."

Where to begin? Although she had been replaying the conversation on loop since it had taken place, it was now disjointed. The 30 second discussion had been battered around her head so much that she knew her emotions had now changed the memory into a bastardised version of itself. Try to stick to the facts, not the feelings.

"Ok, so she came up to my room to get Varric's bloody book. Then she started acting all nervous. I've never seen her like that before. She wanted to talk. Never a good thing in my experience." Jemima paused and downed her second sherry. Dorian remained silent but dutifully topped up her empty glass. Whistling out the warmth, she continued "Cassandra said that she had noticed my flirting with her. I didn't attempt to deny it, seeing as Varric's book will give the game away entirely anyway. Plus I'm stupidly honest and can't lie for toffee. Another example of me being a crap rogue." Bracing herself, Jemima started unconsciously drumming her hands on the bar counter, looking away from Dorian as she replayed the remainder of the Seeker's words. "She told me that she cannot return my affections. I am the Inquisitor, The Herald of Andraste and, this is my favourite, a woman. She said she hoped we could remain friends and then said something about not wanting to fill out a sexual harassment in the workplace form because it would take her the rest of the week? It's a bit hazy by that point to be honest. I might've made that last part up during my little mental meltdown just there" she finished with a groan. Facepalming, she asked of her friend "how could I be so stupid, Dorian?"

Gently, the mage tried to open up the conversation. "Whyever do you feel foolish?"

With a loud snort of derision, Jemima listed "Take your pick! That I stupidly thought my titles would be overlooked by someone who holds as many as myself? That she was interested in other ladies? That I could be so far up my own arse that I could think I even stood a chance with someone as beautiful and awe-inspiring as her?! I'm a total fuckwit!" Quietening, she pondered "Has the power gone to my head?"

Dorian chuckled "if it had, my overly self-critical friend, I daresay we would be drinking Orlesian cognac rather than Antivan brandy in your quarters, surrounded by priceless antiques and golden furnishings with a bevy of beauties queued out the door to satisfy our every salacious need. I think you're being rather egalitarian, all things considered. Certainly, I would have requisitioned all manner of lovely things by now were I in your shoes. Not that I would ever wear those insults to the eyes" emphasising with a pointed finger "even if it did grant me the trappings of which I speak."

Jemima smirked "well, that's one thing at least."

"I cannot tell you how glad I am to see you smile," Dorian affectionately patted the Inquisitor's hand, "however, at the risk of souring your mood once more, I fear I would be a rather cowardly companion if I did not question some of what you just said. Firstly, what did you mean by overlooking your titles? Why would this be a good thing?"

"The fact you don't know what I meant suggests you wouldn't get it, Altus" giving Dorian a mock pointed look. "Let's just say I have been seduced because of my title in the past and now I've been rejected partly because of them. Admittedly, I've picked up a couple in the interim and those were the ones flung in my face during the conversation. But it just doesn't sit right with me that she detests being called the Hero of Orlais, yet has no issue in using my titles at all times and then using them as a reason to shoot me down? Anyway, sorry, I was wittering away there; back to your original point- I'm looking for someone who likes me for me, not because of my titles. I guess the fact she spurned me because of them is a good thing in that respect. But I thought someone like her would be all too aware that they're just bullshit and shouldn't define you."

"Well," Pavus pondered, "what you were saying does make some sense but I'm more inclined to believe she was getting at what the titles represent, rather than the honorifics themselves. You are the Inquisitor and, by that, her immediate superior. Moreover, being the Herald of Andraste has undeniable, and in your case, dear friend, unbelievable holy connotations so, being the pious Percy that she is, fancying a naughty game of mages and templars with you would be deeply blasphemous."

"Ah... yes." The penny dropped. She had been so caught up in the past hurts that came from having a pompous prefix to her name that she had lost sight of the fact her new labels did signify more than mere grandeur. "That actually makes complete sense." Adding with a dry tone "fucking titles. Coming along like they own the place and spoiling all my fun."

Dorian played along "I'm rather partial to my own. Please don't banish them from the realm before you relinquish your own title and power?"

"I highly doubt Josephine would let that decree through, somehow."

"Naturally. But back to your second point- that Cassandra isn't interested in you because you're a woman. I must admit I am rather surprised at that revelation myself so don't feel dense for thinking otherwise." Grasping his friend's hands again, he knew he had to hit home with the next statement. To be cruel to be kind. "It is, however, a definitive reason so, unfortunately, that is something you are just going to have to accept. It's never going to happen. I'm sorry, Jemima."

"Yeah, I know" she sighed. She'd known this herself as soon as the words had been spoken by Cassandra but finality of it still hurt. Had she not given this reason, Jemima wasn't sure if she would continue to harbour feelings for the Seeker, determined to overcome whatever deficiencies she was deemed to have. It was for the best in some ways. A cold, clean break. "That's that then. I must've been so besotted I just saw what I wanted to" she reasoned, leaning her elbow on the counter and running her hand through her hair, the other lifting her thimble glass to sip her sherry at an awkward angle.

"Possibly" Dorian sobered, relived that his friend had accepted his last point. Wanting to try to lift Jemima's spirits after the previous subject, he dismissedly waved "as for the self-disparaging question, well that is just pish tosh and poppycock. You would be a catch for anyone."

Jemima groaned and blushed simultaneously, not being one to take compliments well.

"Now, if only we could get you in a dress. And to look up the definition of 'accessorising' in the dictionary, yes?"

"No dresses! Absolutely not! And, I do have accessories. Look- two rings and an amulet!"

"I meant for aesthetic purposes, not battlefield prowess."

"Pfft, what's the point in that?"

"Oh Jemima, I often wonder how it is that I best serve the Inquisition. Discussions such as this make me inclined to believe that imparting even a smidgen of my impeccable taste on you would be far more beneficial than my admittedly marvellous magical abilities. Not to mention my dazzling charm, wit and good looks, of course." He paused to stroke his chin and gaze upwards. "Hmmm, that is a tricky one. So many wonderful attributes. How does one possibly rank them?"

"Whatever would I do without you, Dorian?" Jemima grinned. "No, seriously" she mused as she replenished their drinks. Raising a toast, "thank you Dorian. You've helped me beyond measure this evening. To the bestest best friend in the land!"

"And to you desperately needing a thesaurus, old bean" he added with a wink.

The Chargers were spread out around their claimed side of the Herald's Rest. Krem had been verbally sparring with Bull for most of the evening. He had even got in a couple that earned a grudging nod of appreciation from his Chief, though his attention had now shifted to watching Maryden singing. Skinner was holding the rest of the mercenary crew audience, ranting about the wicked Shem. Again. Having noticed the Inquisitor's lifted spirits from his permanent seat in the tavern, Bull decided to join his other companions now that the touchy freely crap was out the way and having already heard this particular vitriolic stream of verbal diarrhoea numerous times in the past.

"Boss!" he exclaimed as he slapped Trevelyan's shoulder and sent her flying off the stool. "Oh, uh, sorry about that" he mumbled as he picked her up and placed her back where she had been seated in one effortless move. "Anyway, glad to see you coherent again."

Jemima was a little dizzy and dazed for her brief journey to the floor and back again, although that was not entirely Bull's fault. The booze had given her a nice warm and fuzzy feel by now, her face and neck flushed as further proof of this. "Bull, Bull, Bull! Come join us!" Spinning on the stool, she beckoned Cabot back over. "Juice for Bull, please. Cheers muchly." The grumpy bar steward plonked a stein of ale on the counter and walked away muttering under his breath.

"Thanks Boss" the Qunari spoke as he extended his arm between Dorian and Jemima to grab his drink, not even having to step in to stretch past them to the bar.

"You doing better?"

"Ach, nah, I'm still pretty shit to be honest" Jemima divulged earnestly. "But the lovely and devilishly handsome Lord Pavus has helped enormously" looking at the mage affectionately and giving him a playful punch to the upper arm.

"Uh huh. So, lemme guess- lady problems?"

"Are you asking if I have a problem with a certain lady or if I'm on the jam?"

"And there was me thinking that I couldn't be any more repulsed by female anatomy than I already am. I was wrong" Dorian winced. "Thank you for introducing that particularly descriptive phrase to my vocabulary."

As Jemima blew the mage a kiss in jest, Bull clarified "the former."

"You guess correct. Well done. You win a prize. Ha ha ha! Prize Bull! I didn't even mean that!" The Inquisitor started laughing until she cried at her absolutely amazingly hilarious wit. Nobody else appeared to acknowledge this. In fact most of the pub stared at her in confusion.

When Jemima eventually composed herself, Dorian tried to move on from the moment with an elongated "aaaaanyway... despite the inadvertent 'joke' you do make an astute observation. The way our companion parades about one would be forgiven for mistaking him as having been put out to stud" levelling an accusatory stare at the warrior.

The Qunari quirked his eyebrow and challenged "jealous of the competition?"

"Oh please, don't flatter yourself" Dorian answered with a dismissive hand wave.

"We'll see" Bull smugly smirked. "Anyway, sorry Boss, I can't help you with the emotional crap. My advice- find someone to make you feel better."

"I already told you- Dorian has helped to take my mind off it."

"Uh, that wasn't what I meant."

"I believe our promiscuous colleague was suggesting you seek comfort in the arms of another" the mage clarified.

"What? NO! I can't do that!" Jemima recoiled instantly.

"Why not?" Bull rumbled with his arms folded.

"Well, because, I mean, just no!" Trevelyan flustered. "I can't even think about being with someone else just now."

"Again, why not?" Bull's stance remained unchanged.

"It just wouldn't seem right. I've been so hung up on..." Remembering that Bull, to her knowledge, was not aware that Cassandra was the object of her affections, "a certain someone for so long that it'll take some time to adjust my naughty thoughts onto someone else."

Bull retorted "there's a lot to be said for doing as opposed to thinking." His lips quirked, adding "an approach Cassandra seems to live by as well." Jemima stopped shaking her head and paused to look at the warrior upon his last statement. Suspiciously, she turned her gaze to Dorian.

Raising his hands in defence, the Tevinter spoke before the Inquisitor even voiced her thoughts. "I know what you're thinking but, no, I didn't let the cat out the bag. The clever, cunning Qunari worked it out all by himself. He's not so much of a lummox as he makes out."

Jemima groaned. It was embarrassing enough to be turned down by the Seeker without everyone else knowing about it. Returning her focus to Bull, she said "that approach works very well for you and I do envy you for it to a certain extent. I just don't think it would work for me. Besides, I went through my slutty phase a few years ago and have no intention of going back to it."

"Phase?" The Qunari slightly tilted his head in confusion.

Dorian lightly chuckled at Bull then casually pondered "you know, I'm sure a brief relapse would be forgivable under the circumstances." Looking out the corner of his eye at Jemima to make sure he hadn't overstepped the mark, he continued "it's not actually the worst idea ever and may very well give you the confidence boost you need to get through this ghastly situation."

Jemima shook her head again and knocked back another thimble of sherry. "Yeeeuch! I don't think I'll ever be able to drink this stuff again after tonight" she grimaced.

Bull called Cabot back over and ordered two of the ales he had been drinking all evening, keeping one for himself and handing the other to Trevelyan. "Here ya go Boss. Try this. It'll put some chest on your chest" clinking their pewter pitchers together. "Maybe literally if it helps to get that stick out your ass and find a playmate for the night" he added with a wink.

Ooft, it was strong stuff. A pint and a half later, Jemima felt like she could fight a dragon unarmed. She was charming and funny and not as ugly as she thought and charming. And she could dance! You know, it really has been quite some time. It would be lovely to have a wee cuddle with someone, even if it didn't go any further than that. Well, it would be better if it went MUCH further than that but not to a proper relationship. I could use a distraction. Being Inquisitor is hard. Wait- that could be my opening line! Go for the sympathy vote! Maybe I will go out on the sniff tonight. Does that make me a horrible person? And a bad leader? Urgh, I don't know.

Leaving Bull and Dorian's rapidly escalating discussion on the treatment of mages, she jumped off her stool with a surprising grace (that she would never be able to pull off sober) and headed towards the bathroom. Scanning the inn, she nodded and smiled at those who said hello. Just as she was approaching the door, a dark-haired dwarf with prominent facial tattoos waved and caught her eye, in more ways than one. From the look of her armour, she was a warrior. Of course, the large battle axe that looked comically ginormous on the dwarf's back also gave that away. The woman was unconventionally striking- robustly powerful, for sure, but curvy in a way that guaranteed great snuggles. Pale blue eyes contrasted distinctively with her dark markings. She smiled and beckoned the Inquisitor to join her, showing off her endearing dimples through the expression. The fact she wore her hair in bunches just sealed the deal for the rogue, who quickly surmised that this made her adorable. Ach, fuck it. Tee hee hee- maybe if I play my cards right! Jemima grinned to herself and jogged on over. Right, don't go for anything too fancy. Haven't done this for a long time. Play it safe. With her most winning smile, she said "Hi there. Can I buy you a drink?"

The warrior raised an empty pint glass, which the Inquisitor took as an affirmative. With a skip in her step, she collected a fresh ale for each of them and returned to the table. "So, yeah, I'm Jemima. What's your name?" Rather than answer, the dwarf picked up her glass, tilted her head back and downed the entirety of its contents within a couple of heartbeats. Astounded, Jemima blurted "Shit! How the fuck did you do that?!" Then composed herself into 'smooth' mode again. "That's the quickest I've ever seen anyone do that before by quite some distance! Very impressive! Where did you learn how?" Again, the diminutive warrior raised her glass, indicating that she wished a refill. A bit put out, Jemima duly took the empty glass back to the bar to replenish it. On returning, the same thing happened.

"Oh, twice now? You're just showing off, aren't you?" Trevelyan asked with a wink, trying to hide her unease at the bizarre interaction. The dwarf nodded and raised her glass again. Jemima shook her head and insisted "only if you tell me your name." She received no response. Teasingly, Jemima lilted "go ooooon. You can whisper it in my ear if you're shy" and bent her head towards the warrior's mouth in a light-hearted manner. The woman scowled in answer. Frustrated, the Inquisitor stood back and asked "why won't you tell me your name? I don't understand. Have I offended you?" Not realising that her volume control had been adversely affected by her imbibition, the last couple of questions had been overheard by those in the adjoining seats and she realised she now had an audience.

One of the onlookers, another dwarven woman, quickly rose from her chair and took Jemima aside by the elbow. In hushed tones, she informed the Inquisitor that her friend did not mean any offence by not speaking. She was, in fact, a Silent Sister, a member of the rather extreme warrior order that required recruits to cut out their own tongue as part of their joining, and the woman with whom Jemima was conversing was her translator. She also politely suggested that Trevelyan may want to turn her attentions elsewhere.

Mortified, the Inquisitor quickly took her leave, re-joining Bull and Dorian, who had watched the entire scene play out but were in the dark as to why the promising interaction had ended so abruptly.

"What happened, Boss? That her old lady?" Bull enquired.

"Her translator. She's a Silent Sister."

The pair buckled over laughing: Bull's loud roars and Dorian's guffawing turned the gaze of the entire pub towards the three of them. When they finally settled, Jemima grumbled "no tongue? What's the fucking point of that?" which set her two companions off again, this time Bull was crying tears of laughter into his folded arm on the bar whilst uncontrollably slapping his hand off the counter and Dorian was now bent over with his hands on his knees, wheezing for breath. "You guys are bellends. I'm away to bed" the Inquisitor sulked and slunk away but quickly doubled back to take the now only quarter-full bottle of brandy with her.

The fresh air hit Jemima pretty hard when she left the tavern. Taking a swig from the bottle unbalanced her and she nearly ended up in one of the bushes outside the Herald's Rest but managed to correct it into a zigzagged path towards the stairs. Pausing for a moment against one of the stone steps, she managed to compose herself somewhat and safely made it back to her quarters a couple of minutes later. As soon as she got in the room she stripped completely, feeling she was tainted by failure and rejection and wanting to rid herself of everything about this shitty shitty day. She used the chamber pot, washed her hands in a small bowl of cold water and scrubbed her face with a washcloth. It didn't help. Now alone with her thoughts and without the encouraging distraction of her friends, the reality of the situation came crashing down on her.

I'm an idiot. A complete and utter fucking idiot. Cassandra wouldn't be interested even if she did swing that way. Will she even want to be around me anymore? Will this potentially screw up the Inquisition? I couldn't even pull a random tonight. I must be hideous. And destined to be alone forever. Maybe Cole can find me a cat?

Self-loathing gnawed away at Jemima, cringing and punching the bed in frustration with every suddenly prolific memory of her shortcomings that popped into her head. Anything and everything from the fresh burn of the day's events, to a faux pas made at her first War Council meeting, to the time she made her best childhood friend cry due to a poorly worded comment. She started to take large swigs of her drink to try to block it all out to no avail initially. Eventually though, the sherry was duly finished and whilst it did not help the thoughts, it did manage to lull the Inquisitor into a dreamless sleep.

The next morning was not pretty. Jemima's head felt like druffalos were on a never ending circular stampede within it, her mouth was as parched as the Hissing Wastes and she was pretty sure she was suffering from gut rot. Then the painful memories of the previous day started to come back to her in patches. The end of the evening was a bit of a blur (thankfully) but she didn't need to think through a drunken haze to recall the event that had hurt her the most- getting shut down by Cassandra. Feeling completely sorry for herself, she had a bit of a cry to try to let it all out. All the hopes she had for what could have been, followed by trying to accept that what's for you won't go by you. Her head and heart were diametrically opposed. When the tears finally passed, she tried to gauge the time of day from the position of the sun.

Oh bollocks! The meeting in the War Room has probably already started!

Jemima jumped out of bed and abruptly fell back into it, proving she was still under the influence. Deliberately, she stood up and was able to dress herself, although the socks took a few attempts. Looking at herself in the mirror in contempt, she swept her hair forward so it covered most of her face in a futile attempt to hide her bloodshot eyes. Realising this was daft, she just redid it normally. Maybe I should get a hood like Leliana? *gasp* Is that why her face is always covered?! Is she a raging alchie?!

Glaring into her own reflected eyes, Jemima tried to steel herself for the coming day.
Right Trevelyan. Time to put on your big girl pants. Suck it up. You're the Inquisitor dammit! You can't let this affect your work.
Grabbing a handful of mint leaves on her way out the door, she vigorously chewed on them all the way towards the War Room, spitting the remnants out of the hole in the wall just before the imposing door.

The meeting went surprisingly well and finished in record time. Rather than the four talking in circles for hours on end, the Inquisitor made her decisions quickly but fairly, not in any mood to mess about. Everyone was rather satisfied with the outcome and grateful for the unexpected spare time. Cullen took full advantage of this and quickly departed for his office with a bundle of reports under his arm, Leliana and Josephine left the room conversing about some noble causing both of them aggro and Jemima pretended to pore over the map until she was alone then ran to open the window, fighting the wave of nausea that had been afflicting her for several minutes. It passed, thankfully, and the Inquisitor shakily headed for her room. As she was passing by, she overheard Leliana and Josephine finishing their discussion on some Lady Forsythia of Nevarra, the Spymaster nodding to Jemima as she spun around and took her leave. Despite feeling like death warmed up, Trevelyan didn't want her self-inflicted ailments to impair her duties so she mildly asked if there was anything she could do to help. Josephine graciously explained that she had matters in hand, revealing her strategy as to how to placate the noblewoman's colourful threats. The two chatted amiably for several minutes about the Lady's concerns and her past actions, which prompted a confession from Josephine that she missed having the opportunity to bounce ideas off her previous members of staff in preparation for and in the aftermath of negotiations.

"You can always talk to me, you know?" Jemima offered.

"I would not wish to impose" the Ambassador tentatively responded.

"I insist. Plus we have some unexpected free time. We may as well make the most of this opportunity."

"But of course! Shall I send for some tea and cakes and we can discuss some potential alliances?"

Jemima's stomach churned at the thought of anything being granted entry. I can't back out now! Air! Fresh air! That'd be good. The garden would be ideal but it's too public. We may be overheard.

"Actually, I realise it may be rather unorthodox but would you mind if we continued this on the balcony in my chambers? It's so high up I doubt even Leliana's little birdies can eavesdrop. It may be more appropriate if we are to be potentially discussing sensitive information?"

"That sounds most agreeable. After you, Inquisitor."

A couple hours later, the two were still chatting away, although the conversation had moved on quite some time ago from Inquisition business to Josephine partly venting, partly gossiping about the various unpleasant so-and-so's she had to deal with on a daily basis. Jemima was more than happy to allow her this little indulgence, primarily as it was abundantly clear that the Ambassador could do with a terribly polite rant, but also her hungover brain had been finding it difficult to piece words together at a normal pace. Regardless, she felt it had been a lovely afternoon- Josephine was delightful company and full of entertaining tales, although she had quickly realised they had very different interpretations of the word 'scandalous.' Noticing the position of the sun, the Ambassador threw her hand to her face as she realised just how much time they had spent on the balcony.

"Goodness! Has it been that long?"

"Time flies and all that" Jemima smiled.

"You must think me quite the gossip. I apologise for taking up so much of your time, Inquisitor."

Trevelyan chuckled "yes, because spending time with a beautiful, engaging woman is such a hardship! Don't be daft, Lady Moniliyet. It's been a pleasure."

"I...I'm glad I haven't wasted your day" Josephine mildly flustered, continuing "but I really should leave you to it. Good day, your Worship"

Jemima groaned after her "please don't call me that, Ambassador," which was met with a sly smirk as Josephine elegantly descended the stairs. Shaking her head fondly and smiling, the Inquisitor reflected on her thoroughly enjoyable time in the Antivan's company.

Aw, she's so lovely. I really do need to make more time for her whenever I'm back in Skyhold. That was great fun. I can't believe someone as eligible as her hasn't been snapped up a long time ago. Mind you, she is certainly very dedicated to her role. But, Maker, her future husband is a very lucky man indeed.

A/N- The chatting up scene was heavily inspired by something that happened to me in the summer. In that scenario, I was smiled and waved onto the dancefloor rather than to buy drinks, the woman that took me aside was a carer and it turned out the girl I was trying to get the name of didn't speak a word of English and had severe learning difficulties :-/