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[questionablewit]

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[questionablewit]

[Which she does, not much later, leaning on against his doorframe. She must have already been on her way. No real surprise there.]

Weird human face reporting for duty, as ordered.

[She makes a face to emphasize the point. It's a valiant effort but it's clear there's not much heart in it. Someone looks put through the wringer. Also, underslept.]

[undwarfy]

Finally. [Without even looking up.

He pushes a chair out from the table with his foot and slides a tankard towards the empty seat.]

Why don't you make yourself at home?

[It's clear he's not gonna elaborate on the "mental illness" comment. Not unless asked.]

[questionablewit]

What do you mean 'finally'? I practically ran here.

[The mental illness comment has slipped her mind for the moment, though there's something niggling there. She'll get back to it later. If she remembers.

Meanwhile she flops into the seat, drains the tankard in one long go, coughs, puts it back down, and leans back in her chair. Varric gets half a grin.]

Huh. That actually wasn't bad.

[Not a comment on Varric's taste in alcohol so much as the Hanged Man's. Its reputation is...formidable. Not in the good sense.]

[undwarfy]

[Unattractive snort.]

Are you shitting me? I had to pay actual gold to get this shit dug up from the sub-basement. I think they only get one barrel of the good shit per Age.

[questionablewit]

[She holds up her hands in a placating gesture.]

All right, all right, I promise to drink the rest with great appreciation instead of knocking it back like the usual swill. Unless you think we should frame it instead.

[She holds out her tankard for a refill: please, sir, can she have some more?]

[undwarfy]

[He was never mad but shit, he'll take the groveling. It's always a good time.]

You're damn right you will, human.

[If he's calling her "human", he's either in a great mood or a fucking terrible one.

The answer becomes clear when he jovially refills her tankard.]

Now, then, to business: the elf is a blighted jackass and you shouldn't waste a damn bit of time worrying about someone that stupid.

[Seriously, Fenris. Naked Hawke. In your bed. And you- leaving- how??? Why???!]

[questionablewit]

[Truthfully, she's confused. On a number of levels. What's Varric so happy about? Aside from her company as a drinking buddy, she can take that one for granted.]

He didn't want to. Leave, I mean.

[All right, she heard how idiotic that sounded too. But Fenris had sounded so overwhelmed and heartbroken himself.

...Arrgh, why is she feeling sorry for him? She takes another drink. Several of them. Work fast, alcohol.]

[undwarfy]

[Varric looks The Most Unimpressed.]

Oh, I see. Someone put a knife to his throat and forced him to break your heart.

[Flatly:] That explains everything.

[You're hearing the voice of someone who is about to cash in on a prior "if you hurt her I'll kill you" speech.]

[questionablewit]

It...wasn't really like that.

[She's grimacing all over the place, because yes, it hurt like hell, but leaving also clearly hurt Fenris like hell, and she can't really tell Varric about the memory-returning-briefly-it's-too-much part, that's not hers to share.

Granted, she still doesn't understand why Fenris couldn't have let her try to help. Even if that'd just meant being a silent, supportive presence. She hates to think of him facing...whatever this was...on his own. Of him being alone, again.

She hates being alone herself.

But...she's not alone, is she. Not now. Hawke gives Varric a warm, affectionate smile.]

Not that I don't appreciate the passionate defence of my virtue, such as it is.

[Seriously, dwarf, you are the best and she knows it.]

[undwarfy]

[He looks at her for a second, taking in her demeanor, the Things clearly going unsaid, the exhaustion in her eyes and droop of her shoulders. His sarcastic, Unimpressed Fierce Friend expression softens into something gentler.]

I'd give you a hug, but I doubt even my dazzling chest hair could cheer you up.

[questionablewit]

[Her smile broadens, and there's a glint of the usual Hawke teasing in it.]

Don't be ridiculous. There's nothing your dazzling chest hair can't cure, and you know it.

[And she holds out an arm. Give the lady a damn hug, Varric.]

[undwarfy]

All right, all right, don't cry. You know I can't stand it when humans cry.

[He gets off his chair and goes to her, hugging her where she sits. It's better because, with her sitting, she can get a face full of his chest instead of him invariably getting a faceful of boob.

Not that he minds, but it's not what he promised for this hug.]

[questionablewit]

But your chest is so magnificent that it inspires tears of joy and awe!

[And she should know, from this position. It's a nice change from the more usual side hugs they give each other. Those are safer. But they're not what she wants. Especially not right now.

His incredibly open shirt really is something else, though. She can't help it; she nuzzles the skin it reveals with her nose, amused.]