romdeau | a fishing date;

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a fishing date;

There were no impromptu trips to Sundermount, in fact. Merrill had holed herself up with the Eluvian, avoiding Hawke whenever possible. The Arulin'Holm stayed at the estate, locked away somewhere, and the Dalish woman didn't want to see or hear from Hawke without good cause. Which was understandable (upsetting, but understandable), and she let Varric and Isabela take over Merrill's undertaking. They'd update her whenever possible and she was infinitely grateful, though she knew things couldn't stay that way forever. Eventually, they'd need to talk, and that would happen when Marian was good and ready. For now, she wasn't.

First on her mind was Anders and his mage underground. He would disappear for days on end, surfacing only to work in his clinic where he would refuse to go on any errands. Too busy, he'd say, occupied with his patients and his manifesto. It didn't stop him from pressing worn papers into her hands at every opportunity, the bastard. Her desk was full of Anders' scrawl, damning evidence if anyone should walk in and ask about it. She'd been certain to lock them in the bottom drawer, out of sight and out of mind, but she couldn't put him off any more than she could push aside the trouble she had with Merrill.

With her hands full of Kirkwall's smaller troubles - bandits, a few raiders on the outskirts, and a blood mage or two - she had nearly forgotten her plans with Cullen until she returned one night to a note on her desk at the end of the week. Even such a simple thing was enough to brighten her mood considerably and she packed that evening, though she wasn't to meet him for two more days.

She used the time to tell only a few that she'd be gone from the city, that no one was kidnapping her, and that she'd be very cross if she came back to find Kirkwall burning in her absence. Only Isabela and Varric gave her a hard time for her attempts at discretion, asking for details and gaining nothing.

By sunset on the second day, she was down by the docks to meet him, a pack slung over one arm and her blades across her shoulders, her eyes on the ships and the few workers lingering around. She couldn't be too careful, even now.

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"Oh, he's very good at what he does. I simply wish I didn't need to cut through spiders and dragons to get what he needs." And, frankly, she was fairly curious to see how he worked, what he did to create his more unique items. But that was probably just her.

Her smile curved at the edges. "If I skip off somewhere without word for far too long, you have permission to kick me when I return. Maker knows my sister would cuff me at the very least for it."

She contented herself to finishing her ale and then standing once more to walk the short length of the boat. Her eyes roamed over him once until they settled on the other bottles at his feet. She couldn't help her grin. "Anyone who gets a look into this boat is going to think we drowned ourselves in liquor." Which couldn't be further from the truth, she realized, as she glanced over the side where they had let out their bait traps.

"It does seem unfair that the most useful things are also the hardest to obtain, doesn't it? Why can't elfroot be the key to invulnerability?" he asked.

"I may decide to come after you if that's the case. You never know." It would depend upon if she left a good enough trail and how concerned the friends of hers who had stayed behind were as to whether they'd share the information with him. He could easily see himself trying.

"That's the story I'll be telling. What did we do? Funny you'd ask. All I remember is drinking and spending half the night hanging over the side of the boat paying for it." He managed to get it out with a straight face.

"It probably is. But no one has the coin to pay for a potion at every meal. Although...something like powdered dragon teeth do seem poetic enough to make for the recipe for something special. Eternal life, perhaps."

Something flickered behind her eyes, perhaps the old instinct of fight-or-flight, though her smile mitigated it. "Would you? Meredith might not take too kindly to her captain running off." Unless she authorized it, which was equally an exciting and frightening prospect.

She chuckled. "Added chum for bait?" Immediately, she winced. "Ugh, never mind. Bad joke."

"If you can pull a dragon's tooth, do you need a potion for that?" he asked.

He saw the look, not entirely sure how to read it, his head tipping very slightly. "I haven't taken a day off since I got here. Do you have any idea how much leave I have built up?" There was a teasing light in his eyes.

That had him laughing. "Ohhhh. That was awful. Really awful."

"How about I bring you next time and you can find out? It'll be some hands-on experience," she said with a sly look in her eye. "And then you can impress all of your recruits when you come back with it."

She raised an eyebrow. "You make it sound like you have weeks in reserve." Which brought a thoughtful look to her face. "...Do you?"

Hawke knelt to drop a hand over the side into the water. She brought it back to flick water at him with what might have passed for a scowl if she wasn't nearly in the throes of laughter. "Shush, you."

"Oh, sure. Ruin me for every other date ever," he said. "Well, I'd like to go to dinner with you, I suppose, but it's no dragon hunt with Marian Hawke." He sighed dramatically.

He simply smiled for the question, brows lifting slightly. He had lost track some time ago of how much he actually had, likely more than he would ever be allowed to take at one time without a very compelling reason beyond "I want to". Snickering, he flinched away from the water droplets as though they were colder than they were. "Trying to melt me?"

Since he had seen her looking toward the traps, he found himself doing the same. "You know if we pull them up, we probably can't put them down again. Whatever we have or don't is what we're stuck with. What do you think?" He had no idea what time it was, only that it was important that they get back to the docks before there was too much of a crowd in the morning, because they also needed to haul their catch back to her place.

"I know. It's terrible how I'm spoiling you," she lamented. "There's also the hike there, the camping, and trudging all the way back after you've been thoroughly thrashed around like a rag doll. On the brighter side, dragon scales will put some gold in your pocket and you'll have a fascinating tale. Recruits will watch you go by and will gaze in awe and wonder at the Knight-Captain. What demon could ever hope to challenge a man who's felled a dragon?"

That smile only piqued her curiosity. She didn't follow up with further questions. Instead, it relaxed her somewhat; if he had enough days to take as a vacation, she wouldn't feel like she was getting him in trouble for dragging him away. She chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Melt you? Perish the thought. I would have to row myself back to Kirkwall only to be beheaded by Meredith. But if that is some great weakness, I'm glad I know of it now. I can put it to good use another time," she teased.

Honestly, she hadn't the slightest clue if they'd been successful or not. She glanced upwards at the sky, trying to gauge the time but to no avail. "I don't know. It would be a shame if we brought them up and had nothing." She frowned, glancing at the water as if it would give her an answer. "...We have to have gotten something. What do you think?"

"So when do we leave?" he asked, eyes bright. It was very difficult to tell whether he was joking or not. Perhaps not even he knew for certain.

"You could just tell her I fell overboard trying to save us from sea monsters. She'd never think to check the boat for residue. She doesn't know I'm sweet." That was it. He couldn't get another word out without dissolving into laughter. Now who was being awful with the humor? He rolled his eyes at himself and put his face in his hands briefly.

"I say let's do it. Do or die. Never say never." He stood and reached down for the pole with the hook on the end specifically designed for raising the traps. He offered it to her with a flourish that had him staggering a step or two to keep his footing. Clearing his throat and pretending it didn't happen, he said, "Would you like the honors of the first trap?"

Her laughter, this time, was much longer than before. She couldn't remember the last time she'd smiled or laughed so much with someone. She had to wait until they weren't both chortling before she could speak again. "Offering to go on suicidal adventures and giving me excuses to get out of trouble with your commanding officer? You're either entirely insane or I've corrupted you already." Her smile was definitely fond, something she'd realize later. "Not that I'm complaining in the slightest, mind you."

Never say never. But he was full of surprises tonight, wasn't he? Hawke grinned at the faint stumble, saying absolutely nothing. Instead, she bowed her head as though she was accepting the title of Champion once more, taking the pole from him. "It would be my honor, Sera." Careful with it, she dipped it into the water until she could feel it tap against the side of one of the traps. A flick of her wrist maneuvered it into place, the hook grabbing one of the rungs. She balanced the weight and set one foot back, uncertain how heavy it'd be until she started moving it.

"Oh, this one has something," she said. It could have mostly been water, of course, which was a thought that didn't cross her mind until she pulled the trap out of the water. The weight lifted for the most part, and there were two crabs inside of their first trap. One was much smaller than the other, hardly enough to be boiled and fed to a cat. The other, however, was large enough to be suitable. Her grin was wide. "There we go."

"It could be both. There's a scary thought," he said cheerfully.

He watched her, eager to see what might be in the trap. It looked like it might be heavy. He braced himself against the side so that he could lean for a better view. He laughed when he saw what they had managed. "Maker, if this is what we have to look forward to in all of the others, we'll have just enough to make some fancy Orlesian dish that's all plate with a tiny dollop of food. We ought to throw that little one back. There's bound to be some natural retribution for eating babies, wouldn't you think?"

When she had it close enough to the boat, he reached over to help pull it in and set it out of the way. "That was our test trap." He straightened up and gestured at the water. "The next one is the full one. I'm sure of it."

"And dangerous." But she wasn't afraid of the implications. Not yet.

She chuckled as she brought the trap closer for him to grab and she peered into it with him. "If the dog doesn't eat it first," she said, eying the smaller crab. "Better to send that little one back if we don't want to be stuck out here. Or eaten by monstrous crab creatures." One eyebrow raised. "They could exist, you know." She might have been joking a little.

She stepped back to the side to dip the pole right back into the water in her search for the second trap. "That's confident of you. All right, this one is it." It took her a few more moments to find the second cage and she twisted the hook to grasp the trap. She pulled, surprised at the weight. "Ah. Hold on..." This was going to require a little more effort already. She pulled, dragging it above the water with some difficulty. Even without the weight of the water, it was still heavy, and it became apparent why: there were five, good sized crabs in the second trap, with one smaller one hanging on at the bottom.

"We're off the Wounded Coast. I'm not discounting the possibility of anything," he agreed. "Giant crabs are no less plausible than giant spiders. The only difference is we don't run around underwater to see them." He opened the trap and reached in to fish out the little one, tossing it back into the water before it could reach down and pinch him.

By that time she had the other one on the way up. He looked genuinely pleased with that haul, and as he had with the last little one, he pulled the smallest away and tossed it back. He hauled the dripping box over the edge and set it beside the first. "Now I wouldn't mind sharing with the dog," he said, flashing her a grin.

"The Maker has a sense of humor," she muttered, mostly believing it. If Lothering - little, quiet, bumbling Lothering - could have giant spiders, wolves, and bears...then Kirkwall probably had giant crabs at the very least, if not some other blighted monstrosity somewhere in the city itself. Varric had her convinced of that.

Stepping back, she helped ease the box onto the boat for him to take. "Careful. He could still probably eat this many without any trouble." Glutton dog. She knelt down to look at them better. "If he thinks he's getting more than one for himself, then he's delusional." She said that now but those big, sad eyes could get her every single time.

"You know, I've always believed that," he said. Too many things in life were far too absurd for him to see it any other way. The fact that at times He seemed to be laughing at His creations wasn't lost on the Templar. He saw no reason to be bitter about it. It was just as often it seemed He was laughing with them.

"Hmmm." Did he sound skeptical? Perhaps just a little! He flashed her a knowing smile and stood to take the pole. "Does he like them cooked or raw?"

He pushed the hook beneath the water and felt around beneath one of the floating bladders. It took a little twisting until he felt it catch. Weren't things in water supposed to be lighter? As he hauled it up, the reason for the weight became apparent, a large mass of water weed atop the trap. "Oh, here's the salad," he said with a grunt, dragging it in close so they could get rid of it. Three decent sized crabs and two small ones clicked and waved their legs from between the slats once the trap was revealed.

Well, at least she wasn't alone in that line of thinking. Many who associated with the Chantry seemed far more likely to tell her not to say such things. The smile she offered him was grateful for even that small understanding.

Hawke nudged him with her hip. "Ha ha. I've never given him one raw. If it was still alive, I imagined he'd have his work cut out for him." She was sorely tempted to give him one to see if he could kill it so easily or if he'd spend some time just playing with it. But that would be too unkind to the crustacean.

"There we go," she said, standing to help him bring the third trap onto the boat. She grinned at the catch, slipping a hand in to grab the smaller ones, one at a time. They both went back overboard, the second nearly nipping her thumb with its tiny claw. "Little bastard," she muttered.

"A mabari? I don't know. I bet he could crack it easily if he could just get past those claws first." Whether the dog would know to do that or not was an entirely different matter. He imagined he was smart enough that it could be explained. He played cards!

"He thought you were going to eat him. If I thought that, I might pinch you, too," he teased. He fished around for the next trap. "Oh...you should feel this," he said, leaning to let her grab hold of the pole with him. It was heavier than the weed choked one, making him think they were about to be treated to more of the same.

Instead the box was brimming to overflow. He couldn't see to count what they had, but he crowed triumphantly. "That's what we came for. Yes!" His smile at her across the wet trap was uncomplicated, the simple joy of the moment.

"I'm certain he could, after toying with it a little." Why did she have the distinct impression Max would eat out the innards and then keep the shell for a trophy to chew on from time to time?

"I was almost tempted to keep him just for that little mishap." Not that he'd be of much use. He was too tiny to be eaten. Hawke stepped in close enough to take hold of the pole beside him, eyebrows shooting upwards. "Maker, that's heavy," she murmured, holding it steady and helping him pull it upwards.

When it broke the surface of the water, she peered over and grinned at the sight, eyes alight with excitement. "Yes, that's it," she said, grabbing the trap. "Look at them. A perfect catch." Carefully, she set the box down beside the others, taking the pole in one hand and pulling the hook free of the wiring.

"I bet it would seem something like a toy, unless a claw found a lip or nostril." He didn't want to think about what that might feel like. It was bad enough when they managed to get fingers or the sides of his hands.

He helped set the full trap aside. "We're going to have a fun time of it hauling all of these through the docks and Hightown," he said. That was something else he hadn't thought all the way through. Perhaps between the two of them it wouldn't be so bad once the crabs were all in a big enclosed basket.

He offered her the pole again. "Last one," he said. "I'd like it very much if you'd do the honors."

Her face broke out into a grin, the look utterly mischievous on her, as she eyed the crabs. "I'm sure we could borrow something from the docks." Borrowing as in pilfering, of course. Just some netting or a sack of some kind. Someone would have something lying around, after all, and it might as well be put to good use somehow.

She took the pole from him and stepped around the trap, dipping the instrument back into the water. It was harder to find this time simply because all of the others had been pulled out, but she eventually felt metal tapping metal and maneuvered herself so she could better hook the trap. She twisted it and pulled...and was entirely surprised that if felt like it wasn't budging. Hands gripping the pole tighter, she pulled once more. "...I think it might be caught on something," she called back to him.

"It's not such a bad idea," he said. "I could return it on my way to the ferry, so it's not even like it would be gone all that long." It wasn't stealing if they brought it back, right?

"Oh?" He stepped away from enjoying the sight of the full trap and bent to take hold of the pole. "Maybe if we pull together? Or we could try to get it from a different angle." The last thing he wanted to do was to pull both of them into the water. He'd sooner pay for a lost trap.

And he was agreeing with her. Even better. "Absolutely." And if they truly did take it... Well, she could leave a coin or two for them. "Keep talking like that and I'm going to be convinced that I corrupted you," she teased.

With a nod, she moved the pole to see if she could catch a different part of the trap for easier maneuvering. "Let's try together," she suggested. At least they could say they tried. "Here, on three," she said, gripping the pole tighter. "One, two--"

"It wouldn't be the first time I borrowed something in this city," he assured her. Of course, he actually meant "borrowing". He wasn't in the habit of taking things and not returning them, and he usually only did it when circumstances were somewhat dire.

"All right. Let me get braced." He set one foot against the side of the boat and planted the other as firmly as he could in the sloped bottom. "I'm ready." He tensed up and on three gave a good heave of shoulders and back.

"I don't think anyone can get anywhere in Kirkwall without borrowing something from someone." He was just one of the good sorts that actually returned what he originally took. Another point for him. She could still remember when pilfering small items was a necessity for living in Lowtown. Or in Ferelden.

She moved with him and felt whatever was holding the trap come free after two successful tugs. Bracing with her feet, she stepped forward to hoist the trap up and pull it close. It was covered in the greenery they'd seen before, as though it'd been stuffed inside and twisted around the sides of the box, some clinging to the bottom and dripping profusely. But with it were four very large, very angry crabs that were also tangled in the weed. "Ah. No wonder." She grabbed some of it and tugged it off, tossing it back into the water.

He thought she had a point. Things happened quickly in Kirkwall. Things went bad quickly sometimes. The best one could do was take what was at hand and start throwing, tipping, or swinging it to even the odds. If they had to sling crabs to avoid thugs, he wasn't going to be happy, though.

"Watch your fingers," he warned. He couldn't see all that well, the moonlight hitting the weeds and the water making everything glisten in a way that obscured what was trap, crab, or leaves. He also took his own advice, tugging carefully at the slimy muck without sticking his hands too close to the slats. "Maker, this stuff smells. I hope they haven't been eating it recently, or they'll be just as bad."

"If one of them snaps at my fingers, then I'm putting it in the pot personally," she said idly, clearing off as much as she could of the trap. He was right about the smell, though. If she thought it was bad earlier, it was just as terrible now. She wrinkled her nose once she'd cleared enough off of the box to see just how many were inside.

"I hadn't thought about that." Her lips pursed in thought as she took the trap and set it down. "How long do you think we could wait until they tasted right?" Perhaps boiling them would take some of it off. She didn't know. It'd been some time since she'd cooked them and when she had, they hadn't been from her own personal catch.

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