A Moo Point (Open to any and everyone. Really anyone. Including you)

[questionablewit]

[It's a rare and wonderful day, because Hawke has 1) the day off, 2) a double espresso with cinnamon, and 3) Slave to the Grind's only sofa all to herself. A few people have tried to join her on it, but she gave them that look, the one with the eyebrow, and they changed their minds. The eyebrow comes in very handy sometimes.

So she sits there alone, drinking her coffee in smug solitude.

For now.]

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Reference:

[questionablewit]

Joey: This is all a moo point.
Rachel: Huh. A moo point?
Joey: Yeah, it's like a cow's opinion. It just doesn't matter. It's moo.
Rachel: Have I been living with him for too long, or did that all just make sense?

[mistakesmakeuswhoweare]

Not for too long, actually. Isabela has never been scared off by the eyebrow. What's actually in her cup, no one probably wants to know, but she plops down next to Hawke, her usual notepad in hand.

"Oh good, my favorite muse is here," she chirps.

[questionablewit]

Hawke rolls her eyes instead of attempting The Eyebrow. The problem with friends is that they're wise to your usual tricks. "You know it worries me every time you say that," she complains. "What inspiration are you looking for this time? No, never mind. I don't want to know."

[hugeinorlais]

[There were a great many advantages to being shorter than most people. One of them, the one that came in most convenient at times like this, was that he was required to look up at people's faces and actively acknowledge their expressions. If he didn't, well, then he couldn't be blamed for failing to notice The Eyebrow.

He totally had, of course, but that wasn't the point. He didn't officially notice it. Dwarf. Alibi.

It all worked out.

Varric promptly took a seat next to Hawke, his own impossibly complicated coffee concoction in one hand, and somehow managed to absorb about half of the couch right out from under her. He clearly had no regrets about this. However, judging by the grimace that crossed his face as he took a sip of his drink, he may have had a few regrets about the beverage of the day.]

You know, I don't know why I order the daily surprise. Sure, it's always surprising, but it's never a good surprise.

[Still. It was coffee. He made no move to rise and exchange it.]

[questionablewit]

[Because it was Varric, she made space without argument. For one thing, he was immune to The Eyebrow. For another, he could debate circles around her so she might as well just give in gracefully. She didn't even look up as he swiped half the couch (clever thief) and launched a complaint without so much as a how-do-you-do. It was Varric. Greetings were for other people, not them. They knew each other too well to need to bother.]

You order it because it has lots of caffiene and you hate being bored. What is it today? A triple espresso with pistachio flavored syrup and foam in the shape of a bunny?

[hugeinorlais]

So close--I think it's supposed to be a leaf?

[Varric peered down at his drink and then tilted the concoction toward Hawke. He hadn't made much of a dent in the decorative foam, even after taking a drink, but the picture the barista had drawn in it was...(generously) a bit hard to identify.]

Maybe a boat?

[He shrugged and took another drink. Then grimaced again.]

You still drinking the same old thing or did you spice it up today?

[questionablewit]

[Hawke does look over at that, frowning and tilting her head.]

I'm going for 'blob'. Clearly this barista prefers abstract art and wants to raise the tone around here.

[She leans back with a faint smirk. Her drink is delicious, thank you.]

I dumped half the cinnamon jar in here, so I'd say that counts as spicing it up. You're out of cinnamon, by the way. Better fix that.

[hugeinorlais]

[Varric just cocks a brow at her.

He knows he owns this coffee shop and Hawke knows he owns the coffee shop, but he has never confirmed it and isn't about to. He can't even imagine dealing with the complaints or "suggestions" that the rest of the group would start making.]

You know, there's a joke in here about you being a cinnamon bun, but my brain is still too stuck on abstract pistachio latte to find it.

[With exactly no hesitation, he kicks his feet up on the low table in front of the couch.]

So, what's the plan for today? Harassing dockworkers? Harassing Templars? Harassing Anders?

...I can't believe the cinnamon roll thing didn't occur to me.

[questionablewit]

[She knows he owns the place, even if he'll never admit it. She hopes he won't. It'd spoil the game.]

Is that all you think I'm good for? Harassing people? I'm hurt.

[She is. She really, really is.]

Anyway, harassing Anders is too easy. All you have to do is mention Templars, mages, or cats and off he goes. My plans for the day involve a little more challenge.

I wanted to find a sinamon roll joke but I drew a blank.

[hugeinorlais]

[Varric's cocked brow just slowly rises.]

So...you're saying we aren't harassing people?

[You could cut the skepticism in that question with a knife.]

It's Cullen, isn't it? We're going to go try to get Cullen to break a rule or something?

The worst part is knowing they would have managed it!

[questionablewit]

Unfortunately, no. It's going to be the other way around today, at least for me. I got a message saying Hubert wants to see me, and you know that can't lead anywhere good.

[She grimaces and finishes her coffee in one long draught, then looks mournfully into the empty cup.]

I'm going to need a lot more coffee first, though. I'm hoping you'll come along to lend moral support. Or mock me in my misery, whatever seems good at the time.

[Because it's her own fault, of course. She didn't have to go into business with Hubert. Except she did, because someone had to make sure those refugee workers were being watched over. Hubert wasn't going to stir himself an inch for them, that was for sure.]