I'm giving you guys two ficlets because I'm a lazy sod who doesn't give you regular updates and I feel like a bad writer.

Here, have some sassy pre-Justice Anders singing Billy Joel! (I should point out that this is another of my favourite Disney songs ever. It's just so happy! And I'm a HUGE Billy J fan. :3)

I have since realised something HUGE - This is the 40th Chapter! I'd just to like to thank all you guys for coming so far through this with me. The original target was 50 Songs, but who knows? Maybe we'll do more. Thank you so much guys, for all your patience and support. This one's for you!

Why Should I Worry? (Oliver and Company) – Anders

The bar was full, as per usual. Sanga watched her girls closely, making sure no one took advantage – and double checked the payments, especially on a busy end of week like this. A series of loud giggles erupted from the corner, and the proprietress rolled her eyes. She didn't pay these girls to sit around swooning. She bustled over, curious as to who had gained their attention so easily when there were customers to be served.

The man didn't look as if he had the means to buy a drink, never mind the sheer volume of women – and men – piled around him. His gold blonde hair was pulled back, strands falling into his eyes like the heroes of those steamy Orlesian books, and an equally gold ring was fastened through one ear. She supposed he was going for the roguish look, especially if the glint in those eyes was anything to go by. The clothes he wore were simple, like a labourer's, but he wore them almost uncomfortably, as if he wore more used to something else.

That was when the man held his fingers aloft and allowed a steady stream of sparks erupt from their tips. His audience gasped and giggled, some in awe, some cautious. Sanga sighed and crossed her arms. This was all she needed. A bloody mage, an apostate one at that, by the looks of him, not even bothering to conceal himself. Well. It wasn't her job to enforce the law. Let the idiot stay. As long as he paid, mind.

Esme, a dark haired girl hanging onto the mage's arm, giggled in his ear. "You're so brave, Anders," she purred. "You must be so scared of the templars finding you here."

The mage, Anders, sighed dramatically. "Well you see, darling," he began, leaning back and sipping his beer, "freedom always has its price. But it's a price I'm not willing to pay. And you know – " he sipped again, before whispering conspiratorially, " – they should be more afraid than I am."

His audience swooned at the show of bravado. Anders grinned above his tankard. "But, you know, it's not all bad. After all, if I were in the tower, I'd never get to spend time with you lovely ladies and gents…" There was general laughter, and the mage raised his mug. "I say, live life as it comes, and never accept what you're told unless there's no other way!" Cheers erupted, and glasses and tankards were raised in glee. The mage downed his beer and grinned, widely. "One minute I'm in Kinloch Hold," he declared, proudly, "then I'm down on a Denerim Street. From Gwaren to the Bannorn, there's a syncopated beat."

He looked around, smirking. "I said, whoo, whoo, whoo, whoo, whoo," he sang, wildly, and the others began to join in with his chants. "I'm streetwise, I can improvise!" he boasted.

"We said whoo, whoo, whoo, whoo, whoo!"

"I'm street smart – I got free Ferelden heart!" Anders shrugged, and stood before his audience with an air of ease and showmanship that could have earned him a job there. "Why should I worry?" he asked no one in particular, his devil-may-care attitude infectious. "Why should I care? I may not have a coin, but I got street savoire faire. Why should I worry? Why should I care? It's just a bebopulation, and I got street saviore faire…!"

The audience cheered and clapped as he bowed, his grin fixed. Ale was flying to the group in the corner, which itself was expanding as more and more patrons flocked to the rambunctious mage's show. "The rhythm of the city," he sighed, wiping his brow theatrically, "but once you get it down – then you can own this town! You can wear the crown!"

He pulled Esme to her feet and began dancing her around the room, and people were laughing and clapping and cheering and joining in and Sanga was standing incredulously behind the bar.

"Why should I worry? Tell me, why should I care?" shouted the mage, his own carefree merriment proving contagious. "I may not have a coin, oh, but I got street savoire faire. Why should I worry? Why should I care? It's just a doowopulation, and I got street saviore faire…"

"Ev'rything goes, ev'rything works!" chanted the crowd as the mage spun Esme away into them.

"They love me at the Princess, they adore me at the Pearl!" replied Anders, winking devilishly at Sanga, who rolled her eyes, but could not help the smile that tweaked at her lips.

"Why should I worry?" came the rousing chorus of the entire bar. "Why should I care? And even when I cross that line – I got street savoire faire!"

The mage made his way back to his seat to roof shaking applause and handshakes. He waved cheerily at Sanga, who merely shook her head, smiling.

The young man had just made more money across the bar in a few minutes than she had in a few hours. She wondered, briefly, if the templars really wanted him back that badly. She was sure that magic could come in handy for something.

-0-0-0-0-0-

The other suggestion was to have an Alistair/Zevran/Oghren bromance scenario with this song, which I believe was suggested by Apollo Wings. I loved it, and tried it, but happy!Anders was just there in the back of my mind like "WRITE ME CATE, WRITE MEEEEE" and I couldn't deny him. Everything I've written with Anders has been really dramatic and/or depressing so I thought he could do with some lols. :D

Up Next: A young Hawke comforts her siblings by teaching them how to wish.