romdeau | a fishing date;

"My fault, no, but definitely my...my luck." It was embarrassing how easily she had him sidetracked. Her mouth felt entirely too good on his throat. One hand tightened in a grip of her shirt, the other occupied supporting beneath her thigh to keep her in place.

"You owe..." he started to question, eyes widening when he realized what she meant. "Oh, sweet Andraste." It was an odd sensation to feel flustered and aroused at the same time. He honestly couldn't tell which had more heat coming to his cheeks and upper chest. He turned his face, lips brushing the side of her head.

"Ah," she reverberated, knowing full well what a brief expel of breath over his throat would do to him. She fell silent so she could focus on drawing more sounds out of him, her movements slow and almost lazy. She was in no hurry. They had plenty of time to themselves.

She made her way down his throat to his collar, pressing faint kisses at the hollow of his throat. She couldn't help chuckling when he swore, fingers tapping against his side. It would normally mark itself as a nervous habit, her need to always be moving and doing things coming through. But here it was teasing, the pads of her fingers dancing over his ribs.

"I think we're going to have an appetite for breakfast at this rate," he said, his voice a little breathless. She was good at teasing. She had his anticipation ratcheting up again, his body responding to the soft kisses and light touches with renewing arousal.

It was hard to remember why he had been nervous in the Gallows, except perhaps the unexpectedness of it all and the bold proposition. He found it amusing now and was glad it hadn't been some elaborate prank. Even after the first dinner, that had been a small fear at the back of his mind. He couldn't imagine anyone taking a prank this far. Well, perhaps Isabela, but had she made such a proposition he wouldn't have agreed in the first place.

"You know, it...it has been a really long time since..." He cut off, shrugged, and smiled slightly. "A long time."

She left off her attentions to laugh. "Well, with any luck, there'll be plenty of food. Not really the sort I'd picture for breakfast but..." Provided the bait worked as well as was promised.

So long as he was enjoying himself, she had no concerns. She slowed as his breath caught in his throat, smiling deviously. Her eyes wandered, looking for a suitable place to perhaps leave a reminder for him, one that wouldn't be evident in his armor. Oh, the options she had... Hawke's gaze slid upwards, from his throat and to his chin before she straightened herself to look at him fully.

"By choice? Or... Well, I suppose a Templar's schedule hardly leaves room for a love life."

"I'm sure crabs are traditional for breakfast somewhere. Where that is I don't know," he said, flashing a grin. "I'm being optimistic that we aren't going to be pulling up a mass of seaweed and nothing more."

Something about the way she eyed him sent a pleasant shiver through him. He refrained from asking what she was thinking just then, preferring to be surprised. One corner of his mouth twitched up in a wry expression for her question. "I don't know that I set out not to get involved, but I wasn't looking and had no intention of doing so. You fall into a routine in this job. It makes sense, and you start thinking you don't have much to offer someone. There aren't many people willing to come second to duty, even if they believe in what you're doing. So I just...don't usually give it much thought, which means something like this is few and far between."

"I'm certain Orana could find a way to make a lovely breakfast with crab. I'll need to ask her." She chuckled. "And if we get seaweed, at least we can say we tried. At least we enjoyed ourselves, right?"

Her fingers finally stilled on his sides as she listened, head tilted in thought. "I can understand that." But it was a sad and sorry cycle of duty, still. Even being Champion, even being someone who ran around the city and put themselves on the end of a Qunari's blade, there was still some time to think on things of that nature. It would never last long and it would never be a very serious consideration, but it was still available for her. She regarded him with something akin to sympathy. "And no one's ever approached you for a relationship? Never?"

"I'd put up with an entire box full of seaweed for an outing as enjoyable as this one," he agreed. "I did bring some spices for the pot. One of the recruits who's a decent cook gave me what I hope was some good advice for that."

He shook his head. "Never anything long lasting. I think the closest I ever was to anyone was when I was young, not even yet a recruit. There's a reason they call attachments at that age 'crushes'." He circled his fingers lightly over her back. "What about you? I've heard rumors even here, but I have a hard time imagining you haven't left behind a broken heart or two."

"Perfect. And you will learn how to cook them, I swear. If nothing else, you can take away a possibly valuable skill," she teased.

But he would have been young then. It didn't seem fair, though she kept that opinion to herself. "That's a shame," was all she could say without potentially stepping on his own feelings. "Do you wish you'd had more time before you became a Templar? Or would that have made it more difficult, do you think?"

She leaned into his fingers and faintly smiled. "Rumors? You haven't been listening to Varric, have you?"

"A valuable skill and a lovely memory. If we're not careful, we're going to sound like something out of a story ourselves. Two years from now some new down in the heels refugee from who knows where will approach me in the Gallows, and I'll say, 'Ah, yes, Hawke. She taught me how to boil a mean crab,' but my expression will give the rest of it away." He was poking a little fun at himself, his smile somewhat self-deprecating.

"No, I don't think more time would have helped me. People do come to us later in life at times. It's harder on them, giving up so much autonomy and bowing to the stringent dictates of life as a recruit. I have a hard time imagining going from the full freedom of adulthood to this life." He could only hope that those he left behind had done as well for themselves in their choices and decisions.

"It's hard not to listen to Varric. He talks a great deal." There was a teasing light in his eyes. Two could play coy.

That garnered a laugh from her and she reached up to squeeze his shoulder affectionately. "Oh yes, it has all of the makings of a grand tale. 'The Knight-Captain and the Champion.' Varric would be utterly disgusted to hear that it's actually a story about cooking and not about anything else. He'd drag me out by the ear if he ever heard it."

She couldn't imagine joining something like the Templars at any point in her life. Her freedom, her family's freedom, had meant too much to her. Even if he'd joined when he was young, it was still something in his favor that he stuck with it, even if he lost his freedom. It was obvious to see how much the cause meant to him now. "How old were you when you were recruited?" she asked, suddenly curious.

"He never stops talking, you mean," she joked. She shrugged. "It's hard not to leave some people behind when you're always moving or wondering when you'll next have to leave." They stayed in Lothering long enough that they'd been able to put in their roots but it still wasn't the same. "But if you're speaking of Kirkwall, then there's no one that's not fictional, at least."

"Oh, he'd embellish it. The next thing you know, 'boiling a crab' would have some utterly filthy connotation and be on the lips of every disreputable lout in Lowtown." He chuckled under his breath. It was funny because it was completely true.

"I was fifteen when I went to the tower. I had known most of my life it was what I'd do. Admittedly, that was mostly my father's idea. I didn't find it objectionable or feel pushed toward something that wasn't me. It was more that he knew me very well." There was no resentment or underlying conflict in his tone or expression. He never had resented his father for giving him that guidance in his life. It had always seemed preferable to the idea of being without direction.

He nodded and decided against teasing her about the rumors. Doubtless, she had heard them herself. He didn't want to make uncomfortable, flippant remarks about people who were her friends. After another second or two of thought, he decided to come clean about one of them, if only because he had found it to be the most credible. "I wouldn't have been surprised if you said you had been involved with Anders. Mostly from the way he looks at you." It surprised him the apostate came to the Gallows at all, more so that Meredith had turned something of a blind eye to it due to his associations. He wondered how much longer that would last.

"If he hasn't already waxed fine poetic verse about using butter on people and feasting on tender flesh," she groaned. The things he could write even made her flush sometimes and she hadn't even read some of his 'juicier' titles. Hopefully, she never would.

Her brow shot up in surprise. "That young?" It hadn't been that long ago that Carver and Bethany had been that old. Trying to imagine Cullen in the armor almost made her smile, though she fought to control the upturn of her lips. "But why the Templars and not the city guard? Wouldn't he have wanted you closer to home?"

Though her smile stayed, it faded somewhat and she shrugged in a feeble attempt to brush off the idea of her and Anders. "It's...not what it seems." She did care about him but not so deeply, not in a way that would be romantic. He'd become dangerous, too hollow in his anger after three years. He was changing. She'd seen it in his eyes when he almost killed the mage after he'd already helped her kill Ser Alrik. Watching him saddened her, and though she'd fight at his side and keep him safe, she could see he was going down a path she couldn't follow. "We're not together. We never were." She gave him a sad smile. "But that doesn't mean he's not lonely. We all are."

He shuddered at the visual she conjured. Butter wasn't anything he had ever considered rubbing on anything but a burn. His expression of distaste was likely comical.

"That young. Many recruits come to the circles at that age. It wasn't about law as much as it was about faith. Father was an idealist. I think he viewed allowing me to go as his own sort of sacrifice for his beliefs." He would never have admitted it to the man, but it had been one of the most frightening decisions he had ever made, to leave everything and everyone he knew behind, particularly once he had seen the tower jutting from its island base in the lake, like a lone fang piercing the sky. His look grew more thoughtful with the turn of his musing.

"I...have been concerned. Not that it was ever my business. Well, technically, it is my business when an apostate becomes so vocal, but what I mean is...I never really liked the thought of you getting caught up in some of that. He seems to be headed dangerous places, and I'm not talking about Sundermount." At the times he had given it thought, it had been a more general concern for someone good for the city and a fellow countryman. Now he saw that worry with the potential to become more personal.

And she laughed at it, too, enjoying how expressive he could be when he didn't have his guard up. "I've turned you off from every book he's ever written, haven't I?" she joked.

"As a sacrifice." She raised an eyebrow. "You know how morbid that sounds, don't you? Sending his son as a sacrifice to be a Templar in a lone tower in the middle of a lake. And now you're in a city that might possibly have more problems than the capital of Ferelden." She might have been making light of it, but that was the sort of attitude that led her and her family to be wary of the Chantry with how serious they took their faith and their calling. At least he wasn't embittered by the experience, not including Kinloch Hold.

Hawke shook her head emphatically. "Don't. Don't concern yourself with him. He's my responsibility." If he had to do his job and hunt for Anders, then that was one thing. But otherwise, she didn't want him getting tangled up in the other man's mess. "I appreciate your concern, I do, but the last thing I want is for you and him to knock heads in any way that's avoidable."

"I think Varric managed that all on his own," he said, "long before this conversation. Hard in Hightown as a title was enough for me."

He smiled faintly. "It wasn't quite that...dramatic. He wasn't sending me off to die, or at least he didn't think he was. Anyone who joins knows it's a possibility, but that's what the training and the nice shiny armor are for, to help prevent that."

He pursed his lips, the look more than a little troubled. "I can only promise you a lack of involvement as long as I have orders making that clear. If Meredith ever loosens the leash, that's going to change. He's trying to spark an uprising. If he succeeds he's going to hurt more people than he helps. If he's anyone's responsibility, I'd say he's his own, wouldn't you?" The trouble was he knew she wouldn't. She wasn't that way when it came to her friends. He had already seen ample example of that through the years.

"And that's one of the tamer ones," she added with a sly smile. "You haven't even seen the few scraps of things he leaves like breadcrumbs for Isabela."

With a quirk of her lips and a light nudge, she smiled as well. "I know he wasn't sending you off to die. You simply made it sound like he'd signed you away in good faith." Perhaps he did, in the end, but it didn't need to sound so dark.

"I'm not asking you to neglect your duty. I'd never ask that of you." Even if it would be terribly convenient if she could, that was something she would never stoop to. Just as she couldn't ask Anders to stop being a mage or doing what he thought was right, she couldn't ask Cullen to look the other way and allow worse things to happen. "But everything else is mine and I won't have you in danger." Anders wouldn't go so far, she knew, not when Cullen was doing what was right. But if things continued...she wouldn't be able to believe that for much longer.

"Fortunately, such things are outside the purview of my investigations." Never was he more grateful for that fact than now, when such knowledge would have had him crimson in the face of scrutiny.

"He did, actually. We're...encouraged...not to keep family ties. They're an exploitable weakness. He knew that, and he made sure I knew it before I left." He might have taken more time coming around to that view than he did thanks to his experiences at the tower. The demons would have possessed a greater foothold in his psyche were he actively in contact with his parents.

"I know." He nodded. If he thought she was the sort to try to use personal influence with him to leverage how he conducted himself professionally, he never would have agreed to see her. "I don't intend to be...unduly provocative. It's not going to stop me from worrying, and now that concern is going to be more personal." He softened his tone of voice slightly when he added, "Like it or not, Sera Hawke."

"Unless, of course, one of those novels just happened to land on your desk..." Not that she would be responsible for such a thing.

"Discouraged...but not barred, yes?" She wouldn't have made a good Templar, magic in her family line or not. She wouldn't have been able to cut ties to her family in any capacity, even if she could understand the purpose behind it. "But if you don't have attachments, then you would have to rely on your will and the strength of your faith alone. And developing feelings for others, platonic or otherwise, is inevitable." And nothing to be afraid of.

So long as Anders never thought she and Cullen were more than professional with one another... And even that would be inevitable. She didn't want to think about what would happen. "I know you won't knowingly provoke him. The Maker knows how little it takes to get him going, anyway." She rolled her eyes and settled on a fond smile. "You would worry anyway, I suspect. No use in protesting on my part."

"I can't imagine how that could happen," he said, his lips twitching with his effort to hold in the smile.

"Not barred, no. But the encouragement is strong. More so if you've seen what that sort of leverage can do to an otherwise good man or woman. It's not that we're expected not to feel. The Chantry just wants our loyalty to them first and the safety of others. It's...easier...to be committed to that goal when it's somewhat impersonal." He pressed his lips together as he thought of how he wanted to put it.

"Without naming names, we have a few married Templars in our ranks, for example. Some of them parents. They're good Templars. They are, but they worry that their family life suffers. The thing is they're right. It does. They have to be so careful. Their careers suffer, too. I've seen it happen time and again. Family men and women are passed over for promotions, raises, opportunities. They're considered a risk. They are a risk. It's the hard truth."

His expression eased. He lifted a hand, the back of his index finger tracing down the line of her cheek. "Good to know that you already have me figured out in that respect. We could argue. It would only end in frustration on both sides, I imagine, and nothing would change. You'd still feel responsible, and I'd still worry."

"That's sad but...understandable." She was hesitant to relent on the matter, knowing what she would prefer. But she could see the reasons behind keeping parents in the lower ranks. If it kept them out of additional danger as well, then so much the better, right? Hawke shook her head. "This is why I'm not a Templar. Besides, you know, the family of mages. I wouldn't be able to do it."

A faint chuckle left her and her smile broadened. "We could argue. I suspect we will. But I would rather save that for the issues that truly matter, if you don't mind." She gave his shoulder another squeeze.

"Some in our ranks come from families with mages . They tend to be some of our better Templars. They have a better understanding of the overall issue. Still, I can understand how and why someone would never want to do what we do." She didn't seem to have the temperament for it at all, not that he minded.

"I don't doubt that we will, two headstrong people with definite convictions. I'd at least like to save it for times it could make a difference one way or the other." He smiled and toyed with a lock of her hair, swirling it around his finger before releasing it again. "I fight fairly, at least when it comes to arguing. I try to keep it to the issue and not the person." That had always seemed like stooping to him, something he wouldn't do.

"To protect the public from the power of mage's and to protect them, in turn. To serve. It makes sense that those who have had mages in their family would understand better." She grinned. "I'd fall over in the armor, in any case. Worst Templar ever."

She nodded in agreement, hand reaching up to cup his cheek. "You can't insult me, anyway. Do you know how difficult it is to guilt a vagabond with their profession? It's near impossible. And what would I say? 'Well, you're a Templar who keeps the city safe. What do you know?'" She rolled her eyes. "Yes, excellent argument skills.

"I still think it would be interesting to see one day," he teased. "You'd have to beat the recruits away from you with a stick."

He leaned into the touch, eyes still dancing from the tease. "I'm flattered that you've decided to sit still long enough to spend a night in a boat with me out in the middle of nowhere with nothing to do but get to know one another better." He hadn't intended it as a euphemism, but the thought came on the heels of the words and brought heat to his cheeks. "I really didn't mean that to sound the way it did."

"If I could fool Meredith long enough to find armor in my size to get into and assuming I don't melt into a puddle..." She sighed, as if wholly put upon, fighting back a mischievous grin. "Once. Just so you can see. And Maker help me not get caught."

She laughed, the sound long and clear, unable to hold back at the flush spreading over his face. "I'm glad I took the risk as I have no complaints. Good company, drinks, possibly some seafood... What's not to like?" Her voice lowered conspiratorially and she smirked. "And I'm having an excellent time getting to know you better, in more ways than one."

"We could always do it in the winter. No melting then," he said, laughing. The idea of sneaking plate mail out just for her to play dress up for him was beyond amusing. "I'm almost scared to ask what favor you'd ask of me in return."

His laughter continued at her response, the heat moving all the way to his forehead and ears with the innuendo. "I'm really enjoying it, too." He kissed her then, a spontaneous and affectionate press that held and ended on a more sensuous note.

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