Hawke took a sip of her drink. Three years. That's how long it had been since Hawke met the irresistible rebel apostate sitting near her at the table in The Hanged Man. Three years. She took another drink. Over the past year, she THOUGHT she had gotten over her infatuation with him. She had been able to see him as just a friend, and not a potential lover. She had been able to think of him nearly the same as she did her other friends. Another drink. She thought she was past this. Despite his always-hastily-retracted flirtations right from day one, he didn't seem to have any interest in her beyond the usual - adventures, working together in the Clinic, spending time with friends at the Hanged Man or her Estate. She had come to accept this. She took a long gulp of her alcohol, thinking back to a few days ago.
A few days ago, Aveline had asked for Hawke's help in… expressing her interest… in Donnic. Anders had been in the party and made a passing comment along the lines of how Aveline just needed to get Donnic alone in a room. "Is THAT how this works?!" was flying out of Hawke's mouth through gritted teeth before she could stop it, as she walked out of the door of Aveline's office. She didn't care who heard. All of her friends knew how she felt.
Tonight, it was Donnic's first night joining them for Wicked Grace. He and Aveline were all smiles at their end of the table. It was objectively very cute. As she had some more of her drink, Hawke wished she could be happy for them and enjoy it. She was trying to act natural. She was happy for Aveline, she truly was, she thought as she took another swig, but she felt like she was a dark cloud.
She didn't want to be here. She wished more than anything that she could just go home. Mother would probably still be up. They could reminisce about days in Ferelden, before this gorgeous and frustrating man had ever come into her life. She could pretend that none of the past four years had happened. She could think about Bethany's laughter and kind ways. She could think about Carver's glares and rude remarks. (It must be bad if she even missed Carver's rude remarks!) She didn't want Aveline to feel bad, though. Aveline always left long before Hawke. If Hawke left first, on this big night for Aveline, then it would be obvious that something was wrong. It wouldn't take Aveline long to figure out what was going on, and she didn't want Aveline to feel uncomfortable bringing Donnic to their game nights. She gazed sadly down into her tankard. There was far less in there than she needed. She finished it off and went to the counter for more.
Hawke sat back down with her fresh mug and tried to wipe all thoughts of family out of her mind. It was making her too sad. She didn't need to retreat to her home and mother to give up and escape. What she needed was revenge. She should go to the Blooming Rose. During all the three years since she had met him, she hadn't so much as touched anyone. She knew what she wanted, and it wasn't someone else. She could go have a wild night at the Blooming Rose and enjoy all of the delights that she had been saving up for someone who practically threw her sentiments back in her face. As she sipped on her beverage, thinking of the wild night that she could be having - that she probably should be having - the others at the table began to feel more distant. There was still talking and laughing, but she felt disconnected. Blooming Rose tonight? No. He wouldn't know she'd gone anyway, and clearly he wouldn't care.
She drank more, and her thoughts began to feel even more distorted. She could invite Isabela along to the Blooming Rose. Isabela frequented the place, and could probably even point her towards the best guy there. And including Isabela would guarantee that EVERYONE found out about their little adventure. Maybe she would invite Merrill, too, just so the guys knew that they were specifically excluded, she thought, as her mind began to blur further.
What the Blooming Rose offered was not enough to be worth the effort it would take to issue invitations to her chosen friends and make it out the door. She was probably drunk enough now that she would be unsteady. She could "accidentally" fall into Isabela's lap and stay there for a while. That would make him jealous, right? Isabela wouldn't mind being an accessory to her plan. Hawke finished most of the rest of her tankard and put her entire mental effort into double-checking to make sure that there wasn't some important detail to this plan that she had forgotten. It looked like the table was tilted towards Aveline and Donnic, and she briefly wondered why the mugs weren't all sliding off the table and spilling all over the happy couple. That would serve them right! Hawke began to laugh hysterically at the thought.
That caused everyone at the table to turn towards Hawke. She wheezed to try to stop the laughter so that she could explain. "The table!" she said, and held her hand at a vaguely tilted angle. Clearly no one got what was so funny. They turned back to either playing or watching the game, and Hawke quietly laughed some more to herself.
Eventually, Hawke bored of the table. Why had she found that so amusing anyway? What was she supposed to be doing? Isabela. She looked across the table. There were two Isabelas now. That means they would be twice as likely to catch her. Shortest path would be across the table. She half-stood and started to put one knee on the table. She saw Varric and Merrill give her a weird look. Oh, yeah. If she crawled across, she would block their view. Chastised, she sat back down and finished the last few swallows that she had left in her mug. She needed more. She grabbed her mug and stood up. And then she was looking at everyone's feet. Why was she on the floor looking at feet? She heard chairs screech and someone ran over. She felt hands on her, and heard "Are you okay?"
"Enjoying different view." Hawke slurred.
"Put her on the rug in my room, Blondie," a voice said. Someone sat her up, and then two people (she thought it was two - there was one on each side of her - that required two people, right? Or could one person split themself?) dragged her up the stairs to Varric's room.
"Have you got things under control?" someone asked, and then left.
There was only one person - one person that kept dividing into three or four - remaining. She squinted and blinked a few times. She thought it was Anders. She needed him alone in a room for some reason that she couldn't quite recall. "Are we aloooooone?" she asked.
"Yes, Hawke. Everyone else is downstairs," probably-Anders replied.
"I needed you alooooooone. In a ROOM!" She said the last part emphatically.
"Well, we are alone, and this is a room," he responded. "What did you need?"
"I dunno," she replied drunkenly. "I think you make me mad."
"I make a lot of people mad," he said. "What are you mad about?"
"Hmm…" Hawke hummed, then fell silent, as her eyes lost focus. Then she noticed him again. "Hmm?"
"You said I make you mad," he grinned. "Why?"
"Because you're infurratin'."
"What is it that you find infuriating about me?"
"Don't know," Hawke muttered, laying down. Hoping that she would eventually recall what it was, she said, "Tell you later. Go 'way." Hawke dozed off or passed out, content that she was able to check "Get Anders alone in a room" off of her list.