14: No Filter

"Hawke, you look sober, what a nice surprise," Varric was teasing though it WAS a nice surprise. A drunk, happy Hawke was all well and fine. A miserable, depressed and drunk Hawke had put him off his own drink more times than he would have liked.

"I AM sober, what a terrible feeling," she shot back, dropping down into a chair at his table and folded her hands behind her head. "Any luck on selling all those lovely Deep Road death traps?" Valuables and artifacts, she didn't want the damn things, they were nothing but reminders of how shitty that expedition had been.

"I've got a few buyers lined up, the coin is coming, I promise." Varric studied her thoughtfully, not offering her a pint like he would have before though he did gesture to the ewer of water sitting off to the side, mostly untouched. He watched as she poured herself a mug, taking note that she was even clean for the first time in months. "So, at the risk of sounding like a jackass… what's got you back in the land of the living?"

Beau scowled at him, purposefully being rude and resting her booted feet on his tabletop. "Aren't you funny? So," she was ignoring his question, reaching to pull a folded bit of paper from beneath her wide leather cincher that she wore over her formerly cream-colored top. "This was up in Hightown this morning. I thought it might be something worth looking in too."

Varric took the paper, raising one eyebrow as he read it. "The Viscount's son? Why would you want to get mixed up in that?" Politics, he hated politics.

"Because, the Viscount isn't allowing Mother to simply reclaim the estate," which was a damn nuisance because now Leandra had yet another reason to be miserable, as if Beau needed anymore excused to avoid going home. "There's money involved now and since I'm still waiting on MY coin…" she gave him a pointed look, thought there was amusement in her tone. "I figured doing a good deed for the man in charge might help expedite the process… also, if it's paying, I like money." Beau really, really liked money. She doubted she'd ever have enough, not after her first two years in Kirkwall and learning that coin and status were the only things that kept your backside safe from virtually everything.

"All right, Hawke, let's go." It had been awhile since they had gone out and done something stupid and dangerous, could be fun.

"They think he was taken by qunari."

Anders closed his eyes, wondering -and not for the first time- why he allowed himself to get involved with this woman and all her insanity. Hawke seemed to be bouncing back after their weird reconciliation the other night, which was good. Getting involved in matters that involved qunari, again, not so much. "You know, the last time we met the Arishok, I got the distinct impression he didn't like you." Because Hawke lacked a filter most of the time.

"Nonsense, he dislikes everyone but he said I was capable, we're practically family!"

"Oh, for the love of… no, absolutely not," he had work here at the clinic, patients to tend too, things to sort… he groaned when she moved to stand directly before him. "I'm not going."

"That's fine. Shall I pick up elfroot for you if I find any?"

She was letting this go too easily. For the past several months, he knew a lot of things about her hand changed. Maybe without alcohol tamping down the more exuberant parts of her personality, those exuberant parts were making a comeback. It filled him with both hope and dread, though light on the dread. There was plenty of exasperation, however. "I'm not coming, Hawke."

"I miss you calling me Beau."

She said it so quietly and it had been unexpected, Anders was at a loss for words. That was not something that happened very often. "You haven't exactly been approachable these past few months." Maker, why? Where had his filter gone?

"I suppose you're right," she regret that slip, recalling she had once told him Beau for friends, Isabeau to Varric and her mother, and Hawke for everyone else. "I guess you're everyone else."

It took him a moment to realize what she meant. "I guess I am," it was better this way, safer, for them both. "And yes, if the offer still stands, I would very much appreciate any elfroot you can bring back."

Beau snapped too with a salute and a mocking smile. "Of course, serah."

Tagging behind and attempting to stay with them but out of sight was the stupidest idea he had had this year and Anders had had several thus far. Hawke had taken Varric, of course, out to the Wounded Coast along with Fenris. Fenris… he hadn't bothered getting to know the elf, he had saw no reason too after their time in the Deep Roads. Fenris had reason to distrust mages and was quite vocal about it. Anders had tried being patient, figuring eventually he'd get over it and realize not all mages were the same as those from Tevinter. No such luck.

So, he hadn't necessarily avoided the elf but he and Fenris had no reason to cross paths so… he hadn't gone out of his way to catch glimpse of the other man. He hadn't figured Hawke would become friendly with the rather broody elf either, why didn't that woman ever make sense?

"You know, I really enjoy a man with markings like that."

And there was Isabela, a lot had changed in a few months. Not that he had ever claimed to be a Hawke expert, he knew better, especially after he had basically told her friends were all they'd ever be and that hadn't panned out very well. Awkward friends. Stiff. Hawke hadn't liked the rather brazen, loud 'Captain' at first, she had even considered feeding the other woman to a brood mother. Now they were drinking buddies and… pals?

"I imagine you enjoy many men."

Beau was hiding a smile behind her hand as they walked, glancing down at Varric who was already chuckling at the exchange between the other two.

Isabela didn't bat an eyelash. "Where I'm from, they're called 'tattoos', many sailors get them."

"I don't think what Fenris has qualifies as a tattoo, Isabela," Beau drawled with a snort, glancing over at the elf in question and his curious markings. "None are made from lyrium like his, are they?"

"Nope, and they're usually of pictures, mostly breasts."

Fenris grunted, his eyes forward. "I suppose a pair of lyrium breasts on my chest would make things better."

"Breasts make everything better."

Varric began laughing out loud. "She's got a point."

"Don't encourage her, Varric," Beau chided, frowning as she took in the mercenary group ahead. "That would be queen bitch of the… I forgot what she called them, but she was a bitch."

"Winters, Hawke, they're the Winters," he was already preparing Bianca.

"Ah yes, Winters… makes sense, she seemed frigid. Maybe if she had lyrium breasts on her… breasts," Beau came to a total standstill, cocking her head to the side as she considered what had just come out of her mouth even while unsheathing her daggers. "Yeah, that sounded way better in my head."

"When I publish your biography, I promise I'll leave out all the stupid things you say."

"It's going to be a very short book then, isn't it?"