xxx H xxx
I tilt my head and throw back the few remaining drops in my cup before raising it, signalling to Norah for a refill. She shuffles over tiredly and carelessly pours out more ale. Some of it ends up in my cup, and I nod my thanks, laying out three bits on the table. She grabs it up and slouches back over to the bar. I lift my mug and take a large swallow.
"Take it easy, Hawke," Isabela says, turning from her conversation with Fenris and quirking an eyebrow at me. "You have to walk before you can run. You're not a professional, like me."
"A professional what, exactly?" Fenris drawls dryly, and she elbows him sharply, laughing, turning her attention back to the broody elf. I shake my head in amusement, but take her advice and sip more slowly. I don't usually like to rely on drink to chase my dark thoughts away; no point starting now, even if my thoughts are somewhat darker than usual. Besides, I'm tired enough as it is, since I've had very little sleep these past two nights. I'd rather Carver didn't have to carry me home in a drunken stupor; I'd never hear the end of it. From him, or from Mother.
Varric is seated at the end of our table in the corner, having coaxed all the details of our little 'adventure' from Isabela, with Bianca cradled in his arms. He is stroking his fingers thoughtfully along the stock, probably composing an epic tale in his head. Without naming names, of course; fortunately Varric has more sense than to incur a magistrate's ire, which I suppose is more than I can say for myself. I'm not sure that I want this particular tale making the rounds in any form; it's not something I would relish a constant reminder of. But I doubt there's anything I can do to stop Varric now.
"So, Merrill. You had a rough day, I hear." Carver's throaty voice floats up from a few seats down the table, catching my attention, and stirring a slight twinge of jealousy within me at his husky tone. I keep my eyes on the mug in my hands, while focusing my attention on their conversation.
"Well, it certainly wasn't terribly pleasant, that's for sure. But don't worry, your sister made me feel a lot better on the way back to the city." Merrill says cheerily. I smile into my cup.
"Ah. Good. She's pretty good at that, I guess. Well... can I buy you a drink?"
"But I already have a drink. Hawke bought us all a round, remember?"
"Right, of course. Well, perhaps when you've finished with that, I'll get you another."
"Oh, thank you, Carver, but I think I'll be fine. I don't drink very much. Perhaps you could buy your sister a drink, though. Or maybe Isabela? She drinks a lot, I bet she'd like another one," Merrill says helpfully.
"Er, right. Of course."
Better luck next time, brother.
Actually, no, I take that back.
"You can shout me a mug, if you like," Anders offers, an amused smirk in his voice, and Carver growls.
"Shut it, magey!"
I glance down the table to steal a glimpse of Merrill, just to see if she's really alright, of course, and find a pair of wide green eyes staring back at me. They blink once in surprise before she looks away quickly, a faint blush suffusing her cheeks as she turns to ask Anders a stuttering question about creation magic, which he grudgingly answers. I smile again and lean forward to try and join their conversation, when I glimpse red hair and plate armour out of the corner of my eye, and turn to see Aveline come through the door and walk over to lean against the bar. She notices my regard and beckons me over with a motion of her head. I sigh inwardly and rise, weaving through the other patrons and making my way over to her. I have a feeling I know what she wants to talk about.
"Hawke," she begins sternly.
I wait, meeting her gaze. When she remains silent, I raise an eyebrow at her. "Something you need, Aveline? Or can I let my attention stray?"
"Your behaviour back in the ruins was... unusual," she says at last.
"It was hardly a normal situation," I reply guardedly.
She inclines her head, conceding the point. "True, but you seemed much more on edge, and much more inclined to violence than you generally tend to be."
I sigh wearily. "I don't know, Aveline... everything about that whole situation just made me furious."
"Touched a nerve, you mean?"
It had at that, more than she could ever know. But I don't reply, I give her nothing. If she's going to accuse me of something, I want her to come out and say it. I dislike all this dancing around.
"You know, some bodies were recovered in Lowtown this morning, not too far from here. Half a dozen men. Fresh kills, must have been done last night." She pauses, looking at me pointedly. "Their throats were cut."
"Really. Maybe they were jumped by the Sharps."
"They weren't robbed. All their coin and effects were still on the bodies. This looked more like... an execution."
"Perhaps they deserved it," I say incautiously, losing my patience.
"Two more bodies were found early yesterday morning, as well. In an alley between your uncle's house and the alienage. I don't suppose there's anything you could tell me about that?" I manage to stay silent this time, watching her face. She looks me in the eye.
"One of them had his trousers halfway down to his ankles."
I clench my jaw involuntarily, a muscle leaping in my throat, and Aveline has her answer.
"I'm not going to pry into your business. Or Merrill's. I am concerned for her welfare as well-"
"Then drop it."
Aveline gives a quiet sigh of frustration at my stonewalling. "Damn it, Hawke! I can be understanding this time, and I'll let it go. But don't make this a habit, please."
"I don't intend to. If I don't have to." She nods, accepting my words without further comment. I rub the back of my neck. "Thank you, Aveline."
She glances behind me, and I follow her gaze. Isabela has abandoned her conversation with Fenris, and is now getting very friendly with a muscle-bound sailor in a corner. Aveline sniffs disapprovingly, shaking her head.
"I'm on duty early tomorrow, I'd best be getting back to the Keep. Much as I wish I could be here for the birth," she says loudly in Isabela's direction as the pirate runs her hand over the burly sailor's chest.
Isabela simply smirks over her shoulder without stopping what she's doing. "Well, big girl, perhaps we should come with you and give you a show. You could learn a thing or two." Aveline merely scoffs under her breath and strides out, trying to restrain a smile.
"Birth? Is someone having a baby? Oh, how sweet!" Merrill chirps, endearingly missing the joke as usual. Isabela laughs and turns away from the disappointed sailor without a backward glance, darting gracefully back to our table to hug Merrill from behind, ruffling her short hair in obvious affection.
"Oh, kitten, I could just lap you up." Merrill looks up at me questioningly, evidently remembering what I told her about Isabela's double meanings. I tip her a nod and a wink, and she blushes fiercely. Isabela suddenly produces a deck of cards, though I can't imagine where she was keeping them.
"Anyone for a game of Wicked Grace?" she asks, looking round the table as everyone conspicuously tries to avoid her gaze, before her eyes fall on me. "How about it, Hawke?"
I grin, and shake my head vehemently, moving over to sit next to Merrill, who beams up at me sweetly. "Huh-uh. I've almost got enough coin together for the Deep Roads now, but I won't have it for long if I let you cheat me out of it." Isabela sighs in mock disappointment, seating herself opposite us.
"Spoilsport. Alright, then, how about if we take coin out of the equation? We could all head up to my rooms and play for pieces of clothing, instead." Anders, Carver and Varric all burst out laughing; even Fenris gives a low chuckle. Merrill frowns, looking worriedly between me and Isabela.
"Oh, but I didn't bring any extra clothes. Should I go to my house and get some? I'm afraid I don't have much. And I don't really think my clothes would be much good to anyone else, I mean, who could fit into them? N-not that I'm saying anyone is too, um, big for them, of course not, but I am a lot shorter than everyone, except for Varric, anyway - oh, sorry, Varric, I didn't mean-"
"Don't worry about it, Daisy," Varric chuckles fondly. I smile and give her a one-armed hug, glad for any excuse to hold her, as Isabela laughs delightedly at her ingenuous misunderstanding and lovable rambling.
"Oh, kitten."