9

It had been a year since the Deep Road expedition, and Hawke had come in for her weekly briefing. Hawke eyed Isabela off disapprovingly. "Wasting your money on booze again, I see. You know you could have bought a new ship by now, with the amount of coin that you've earned in the last two years?"

"Is this what you've come to speak to me about? I've told you before, if you're not going to sit down and get drunk with me, I simply cannot take you seriously."

"No, I'm not going to get drunk with you, Isabela. I need you for three jobs this week. I can work around your availability, and there will be 6 sovereigns in it for you. Can you do it?"

With a belly full of whiskey, Isabela turned on Hawke. "Stop being a prig and sit down for a drink, or go away!" she slurred.

Hawke sighed. "I see you're in no state to talk business. I'll come back later."

"Ugh… That's all you are these days, business. What happened to that sweet little thing, all tits and arse, fresh off the boat? At least I could have a little bit of fun with that girl."

Hawke shrugged. "I have people that rely on me now. I'm sorry if that offends you."

"Well it does! You are probably the most uptight person I have ever met. Some people choose to be free, and some people choose to be tied down by responsibilities. I know which I prefer!"

Hawke rolled her eyes. "You're not free, Isabela, you're just selfish and irresponsible. There's a difference."

Isabela loved it when she successfully baited Hawke. The mage was always more beautiful when she was angry, with a defiant gleam in her eyes and a flush to her cheeks. It was the only way that Isabela could have any fun with Hawke these days. "Why quibble over definitions? Now, leave me to my drinking. Talking to you is exhausting. And boring!"

Hawke scoffed in annoyance. "You are so rude. I don't know why I put up with you!"

Isabela sized the mage up, the whiskey fueling a desire that Isabela had long ignored. Hawke was leaning with her lower back against the bar, arms crossed over her chest, frowning furiously at Isabela. Without putting too much thought into it, Isabela put her drink down and stood in front of Hawke, putting both hands on the bar, on either side of Hawke's waist, positioning herself so that she was in the mage's face.

"And sometimes, Hawke, I don't know why I don't just slap you silly."

Hawke put her arms out at a 90 degree angle from her sides. "Go for it. You have one free shot. Make it a good one. Get it all out of your system, then maybe you won't be such an ass to work with!"

She stood against the bar, arms opened wide, eyes closed tight, waiting for the moment of impact. This was a secret fantasy of Isabela's, but she had no idea which way she wanted to play it. Would she slap the smug superiority right off that pretty little face, or would she deal with her other desire?

This was a once in a lifetime opportunity.

She roughly pressed her mouth into Hawke's, wholeheartedly expecting to be pushed away. Hawke flinched slightly at the contact, and Isabela watched her eyes open in surprise. To Isabela's delight, Hawke closed them again, putting her hands on Isabela's hips and gently pulling her closer. Her lips were soft and warm, and she parted them slightly, welcoming the caress of Isabela's tongue. Isabela adjusted the pressure of her lips to match the more gentle style of Hawke's, still surprised by the mage's reception to her advance.

Isabela's heart fluttered in her chest, while a wave of attraction rolled through her abdomen. She pulled away after a long moment. That had been… unexpected.

"I… uh… Wow. I didn't realise you still felt that way…" Hawke muttered, avoiding eye contact.

"Get a grip, Hawke, I feel nothing for you. I was curious, that's all. Now my curiosity is sated, and we're done here."

Hawke's eyebrows narrowed into a frown as she glared at Isabela. "Maker, you are such a bitch. I don't understand you." Hawke pushed away from the bar and made her way through the small crowd of gawking men that had gathered. She left without a backward glance.

Isabela turned back to her drink, trying to ignore the tingling of her lips. What in the Void was that? she wondered to herself. She wasn't big on kissing, as a personal preference. It served no purpose; she much preferred to be thrown on a bed for a good headboard slamming. But that had been different. In her 27 years of life, Isabela had never been kissed like that.

Her heart was still racing as she finished her drink. She surveyed the room. A few soldiers, half a dozen sailors, and a tavern wench. One of the soldiers was handsome enough, and looked tall and well built. She considered it, for a moment, but then decided against it. She went to her room alone, and pleased herself, with the memory of that kiss fresh on her mind.