romdeau | a fishing date;

"A romantic Templar. Maker preserve us all," he murmured. "That would be quite the switch of expectations, wouldn't it?"

He snorted wryly. "Oh, sure. Let's teach the impressionable minds that might makes right, and that if you can crush them, it's because they were asking for it."

In answer, he unstoppered the bottle. The rich scent immediately enveloped them, promising warmth and a smooth finish. "I would never blame you for my own folly." Tipping his head back, he took a swallow and closed his eyes while it went down. It was everything he recalled about the drink. As long as he also remembered it had a bigger kick than the smoothness seemed to show, he felt he wouldn't make an idiot of himself. He offered it over to her.

"A romantic Templar who engages in bar brawls. It would be the best thing to hit the shelves since 'Hard in Hightown'. If you ever get bored with hunting mages and restoring order, you could consider it."

She chuckled, picking up her bottle of ale and finishing it off. "Only the drunk and disorderly. And the thieves and the murderers."

Hawke watched him drink, almost expecting him to react poorly to the drink. Eyes alight with mirth, she raised an eyebrow when he passed the bottle and she took a moment to savor the scent. It'd been at least six months since she'd tasted Antivan brandy, the drink expensive enough that she never felt the need to go get any until Isabela brought it around for their weekly game. "Well, I did bring the temptation itself," she said in reply, just before she took a slow sip for herself. It went down smoother than she remembered and then burned at the end, a tingle that had her smiling.

"You know, the first time I heard that title, I didn't think it could possibly be a real book." The recruits whispered about it when they thought he was out of earshot. It amazed him how deaf they seemed to believe the officers were. "So what would ours be called? I'm almost afraid to ask."

He nodded slowly, shifting so that he was leaning partially on his hip and facing her more. He propped his arm on the bench seat now at his side, elbow bent and tucked to hold some of his weight on his forearm. "I suppose that wouldn't be an awful message to send the recruits, particularly when they join the drunk and disorderly ranks." Just because they weren't supposed to do it didn't mean they didn't. It wasn't like at the tower where a dangerous lake kept them in check.

"And I succumbed to it." He watched her take the drink before answering the smile with one of his own.

Edited (This time without the angsty icon. Oy.) 2012-08-05 05:41 (UTC)

"You're not the only one. I thought Varric was joking about it." And he wanted her to even have a copy. "I still don't know what that title even means." 'Siege Harder.' It was a ridiculous name for a book. Hawke chuckled quietly. "I don't have a creative bone in my body. I don't know what it would be called. Something equally strange for a title, like 'Well Met by Moonlight.'" And Maker help her that Varric never heard a word of any of this.

"There you go. You join the trouble, you get treated like them. Unfortunately, the Hanged Man isn't safe enough of a place to give practical lessons to anyone." If recruits were punished right there, or at the Blooming Rose, they could run into the same trouble as before...just like Keran and Wilmod.

She took one more slow sip, savoring the taste, before she surrendered it to him. "That you did. I'll apologize for that if you're sprawled in your seat in the morning," she said with a grin.

"So what you're saying is you're not the one to ask for a summary." He snickered. "Just the thought of being a topic of thinly veiled fiction, that sort of fiction, has me squirming and praying to the Maker I can keep him convinced I'm one of the most boring men alive."

He had to agree with her there. Anything that might have started out as discipline was likely to escalate to a full blown brawl. Knowing his luck, that would be the night a paranoid blood mage decided to hole up in the back, thought the Templars had come for him, and summoned five shades and a pride demon to keep them away from him.

"I'll do my very best not to disgrace myself." He took another swallow, savoring it, and lowered the bottle to rest on his thigh. "It's very good. Thank you for bringing it. And for coming. I'm having a good time."

"Maker, no. I'll say this: Varric is an excellent storyteller. But the way he writes some of his stories... He knows his audience. He knows he can sell those book to every lonely man and woman in all of Kirkwall. He strings them along." She smirked. "But don't worry, I don't think he suspects you of being anything special so far. Hopefully."

She smiled as he drank, leaning back and making herself a little more comfortable. "Think nothing of it. Drinking alone is a sign of larger problems, or so I hear. Besides, it's a special enough occasion for it." He did get all of this together on his own. She wanted to repay him for that.

"And you're handling it well, too. Good for you," she teased lightly, leaning against his shoulder.

"Oh, well, if we're lucky, even if he figures it out, nothing truly untoward will happen until the fifth or sixth sequel. Just...lots of brief meetings and...Andraste's ashes, I don't know. Flowery words?" He knew he was probably being naive. It wasn't so bad when it was deliberate.

"I've heard the same. It's less cheerful at the very least." His smile widened for the assertion that it was a special occasion. He had tried to make it something different from dinner or a walk.

"Tell me that when it's time for me to stand up again. That'll be the real test." He shifted to give her the inner curve of shoulder rather than the harder outer cusp, nothing coy or sneaky in the way his arm came to rest around her shoulders as a result. He once more offered over the bottle.

"Even if nothing did happen...that's not Varric's style." Flowery words. Yes, that was a little naive. "Let's just say that each book can be considered stand alone, even if he does write a sequel." That was probably about as subtle as she could be. "Confiscate a copy from one of your recruits and skim it over."

Hawke smiled right back, though she offered an ineffectual shrug. "If you ever feel the need to drink heavily and you have no one there to share it with, come find me. Simple as that." Whether this progressed or not, Cullen was a fine man and friendly. She wouldn't mind seeing him for a drink and small talk, especially if it kept the man sane and content in some fashion.

"Before you sleep, if you sleep, I'll make you walk. Just in case," she promised, taking the bottle from him. She offered him an approving grin before she had another drink from the bottle. "Oh, but that does taste nice at first. How some people can drink all the time, I'll never know."

"I've...actually heard. It would probably hold off at least until mid-book and not before the characters were thrown together in dramatic circumstances and dire need." He tipped his head back and looked up. "Sometimes it's easier just to feign ignorance." It definitely would be if he ever learned he was inspiration.

"That's kind of you. I'll make a similar offer with the caveat that it's better to send a messenger, particularly at night. Sneaking into the Gallows to drink with me wouldn't be the smartest move. Much better to have me come to you." He squeezed her shoulder. "And you needn't worry about what you might say. I'd never use anything that came out during intoxication against you or your friends." He meant it, his gaze sincere and direct.

"Sleeping on a date? Let's hope not. I don't think I'd ever live down that embarrassment." He shook his head. "I don't, either. After a while it doesn't taste good anymore. That's not touching on how it makes you feel. I particularly hate when my nose gets numb."

"Yes, something like that. He might use the same formula in his other stories but I've been lucky enough not to know." And she'll continue not to know unless she one day discovered he'd written something more about her somewhere. "If it helps, I won't tell you if there's something one day about you. I should think you'd be safe, especially since we're being discreet."

"But where's the challenge in that? It would be much more interesting to try to sneak in." If she was feeling particularly self-destructive, that is. She turned to face him and smiled, reaching up to squeeze his hand briefly. "Likewise. You have my discretion and my silence." He had the upper hand; with Anders and Merrill always around, he could easily speak to Meredith and see them taken to the Circle. She trusted him not to do so.

"You did say you had a lower tolerance. I wouldn't hold it against you," she promised gently. "I think the numbness is the point, obviously." She tipped her head back against his arm and smiled. "I've never heard about it making someone's nose numb, though."

"That sounds like the perfect plan. Keep me in the dark." If he was extra lucky, he wouldn't hear it from the recruits, either. Of all the things that were important for him to know, that wasn't one of them.

"Interesting is one word for it," he said a little dryly. He squashed the curiosity about whether she could do it, half afraid that if he expressed it she might see it as a challenge and get herself in trouble. "I'll remember that." He didn't make drowning himself in drink a habit, unsure if he'd ever take her up on it. It was nice to know it was an option.

"Really? For me that's one of the first signs I've gone too far. My nose gets numb, and then my lips. Next I start to slur. It's all downhill from there." He spared a thought to how nice it was, sitting like this, and another to how odd it was to be readily touched. People didn't typically touch Templars. Templars didn't usually touch each other. The armor on duty precluded it, and off duty they still maintained their distance habitually.

And hopefully no one would put two and two together about a Templar being involved with the Champion.

"I'm guessing that 'suicidal' is another word you're thinking," she said with a wicked smile. She'd try but she probably wouldn't get very far. She wouldn't allow herself to get caught by any means. What excuse could she possibly give? Even if she said she was trying to see Bethany, she'd just endanger her sister.

Hawke regarded him a moment before she took the bottle once more. "My feet get tingly when I've had enough. I laugh too much, but that might simply be because of my choice of company." Varric could always make her laugh. "But then the slurring starts." She took another small sip, closing her eyes. "I don't usually go that far, thankfully. If I start, you'll have to ignore everything I say."

"I'm just glad you said it instead of me," he said with a grin. "If they realized who you were, they probably wouldn't kill you. It would depend on who got to you first and what they thought you were trying to do. On the positive side, I'd probably be called in first to deal with it rather than Meredith.

"If you get giggly, I won't say a thing." There was something about his expression that said that might not be entirely true. "I think the trick is just making sure we're at the same level of intoxication. Then neither of us will be in any position to judge." They also might not be in any position to get the traps up or steer the skiff, but that was far enough away he didn't have to give it much thought.

His thoughts drifted to something else though, and he looked back up at the sky to avoid having to look at her directly for the question. "What would you have done if I had agreed to your proposition on the spot?"

"Probably. That's highly reassuring." Meredith would probably give her a thrashing for doing something so foolish at the very least, and that was provided she had an adequate excuse that didn't involve Bethany or Cullen. "Well, at least it's good to know there will always be one person who doesn't fall all over themselves for me."

She snorted. "If your nose and lips go numb, you won't be one to talk about being giggly." He wouldn't be the first or the last to tease her for it. "That's an idea. Spot each other, make sure no one's too far gone or too sober. I like that."

Surprised at the question, her eyes turned to his face and found his attention elsewhere, possibly on purpose. She looked back at the bottle in her grip. "Laugh, probably." She winced; that came out wrong. "Not at you. At myself, for thinking it was such a splendid idea to say right in the middle of the Gallows." It wasn't the ideal place to throw a proposition like that out in the open. It wasn't one of her smarter decisions. Something else was on the tip of her tongue and she debated actually saying it. She took another sip of the brandy and then set it down between her feet, keeping it still with her boots. "And I probably would have had to restrain myself from doing something even more foolish right then and there."

"I do my best," he said, still grinning. "Maker, yes. She's wonderful for reality checks.

"How would you know unless I told you?" If he was that far along, he'd be tipsy enough to say just that, though, and he knew it. "I could just...quietly go numb and tease you, and you'd never know."

That had him laughing anyway, unable to resist the chance to tease her now. "Oh, sure. Say that to a man then laugh when he agrees. How could that ever go wrong?"

The warmth in his eyes remained even after the smile faded, the corners of them still crinkled. "Maybe this is a better place for foolishness." Before he could talk himself out of it, he lifted his hand to tip her face toward his and leaned to kiss her, a brush of lips that was shared breath and brandy touched. The tips of his fingers rested against her jawline.

"The true power of the Knight-Commander: unwavering disapproval." That, and her prowess in battle. Anyone would be afraid of facing her, mage or no.

"You'd suffer in silence just for that?" Hawke smirked. "There's a wicked streak to you yet, Knight-Captain, try as you will to hide it." Make no mistake about it, she was enjoying how forward he was being tonight, even if he was teasing. He was relaxed with her.

She laughed with him. "It wouldn't be with any intention to upset you, honest. But I would then be standing there, wondering, 'Well, what do I do now?' I couldn't drag you off somewhere, after all!"

Even with the talk, she still found herself surprised that he made a move first before she could. She tilted her head obligingly and leaned in to the press of his fingers as her lips pressed to his. It was a simple thing but no less exciting, a crack of his defenses that she could blame on the liquor. It wasn't a deterrent; she lifted one of her own hands to settle it lightly on his cheek in turn, the pad of her thumb resting on the curve of his cheekbone.

"Never underestimate that. Disapproval of that magnitude can move mountains, or at least motivate underlings to try." He snorted softly. Few were those who could withstand one of Meredith's glacial, withering stares.

Tellingly, he made no effort to deny any such wicked streaks, amusement evident. "True, and there's no such thing as a quick anything when it comes to plate mail's removal, even in part."

He kept it shallow, a warm, exploring press of lips to lips that lingered until he felt his breath catch. When he drew back it wasn't far. "I didn't think it fair that you had taken all the risk up to this point." He knew from personal experience it wasn't easy to express interest in someone. There was always the chance of rejection. Her words might have shocked him that day, but the interest was flattering. He had yet to find a reason to regret seeing where it might lead.

"Why do you think I avoid her when I can? If I stuck around too long, I'd find myself doing some improbable tasks because she asked me to." It was only a matter of time, she was certain, before that happened.

There might have been a hint of rosiness beneath her eyes, though that might just have been the brandy. "Then I would be barred from the Gallows until further notice, and where would that leave us?"

Even when they parted, her hand remained for another moment or two longer before she thought to move it. It did not stray very far, instead coming to rest on his shoulder. She swallowed the first quip that came to mind, instead meeting his gaze without flinching. "I'm not afraid of the risk." After all, she did not have a real position to lose like he did. "But you keep surprising me." He didn't reject her advances, didn't scoff when she invited him out.

"You would. Everyone does sooner or later, even Orsino." The Knight-Commander had her ways.

He couldn't quite stop the mischievous quirk of lips as he answered. "Meeting places far better than the Gallows. Ideally, I'd like for you to be able to come there if you need something with less potential for embarrassment, so it's just as well we've gone the more indirect route." Low lighting was her friend at the moment. He missed any flushing.

"You thought I might balk?" He held the eye contact, too, no accusation contained within the question, simply genuine curiosity.

She laughed. "Ideally. We can keep it to business and small talk only from now on." A sly smile found its way onto her lips, however. "It was worth it to see you blush," she teased gently, the volume of her voice dropping just slightly as if they were passing secrets across the courtyard itself. It had been such a rewarding sight, truth be told. Hawke spent her days getting under people's skins and she had enjoyed that flabbergasted expression while she had it.

"Yes, I did. I thought you would have told me how inappropriate I was being." She shrugged. "Anyone else would have told me off, I suspect, if they had your position. I was making a gamble with someone else's reputation."

He laughed and shook his head. "That's probably a sight you'll get to see quite often if you spend enough time with me. Something I've never quite been able to bring under control. I'm much better than I used to be, though. Growing older does have a few benefits."

Something almost defiant sparked in his gaze. "If you're good enough for these Marchers to save their city state, surely you're good enough to date their Knight-Captain?" Something about that look boded ill for the first person who thought to bring it up to him in a negative light, if that day came to pass. "I wouldn't be worth seeing if I were the sort of person to bow so readily to possible negative attention." For all of her detractors, Hawke had more than a fair share of supporters, too. If he was the sort who feared public scrutiny, he wouldn't have accepted his promotion, a controversial decision given both his age and country of origin.

"I'm glad I surprised you."

Now she was curious if her cousin had any thoughts to say on that subject, if she ever saw him blushing while he was younger. She kept that to herself. "I look forward to it, if that's the case," she said instead, her smile sticking.

"I think it would be understandable considering what your job is." He'd told her how hated the Templars were at times, how Meredith's views alone lost them some favor with how harsh she was. Even if she had some of the city rallied behind her, Hawke was still someone many had cause to fear and even hate. "You have enough to worry about without me adding to your trouble." That was why she was even more pleased that he chose otherwise. It spoke to his favor, in the end, even if she would have thought no less of him had he rejected her advances.

She leaned forward to kiss him once more, just another brush of lips, her hand squeezing his shoulder. Against his lips, she murmured, "I'm glad you did too."

"I'm in trouble, aren't I?" Somehow he didn't think he minded so much. There were worse fates than being flustered by someone good at it.

"I have a feeling whatever trouble might come from this is the sort I'll enjoy addressing." There was something to be said for usually being soft-spoken and fairly agreeable only to surprise others when a different side came out.

His hand slipped back from where it was resting into her hair, a light cup of rough fingertips against her scalp. He smiled slightly against the murmur and captured the fullness of her lower lip between both of his. It lingered a little too long to be a tease. As he broke the kiss a second time, he pressed a smaller one to the corner of her mouth and turned his head to brush cheek against cheek, staying close.

"Possibly. I suspect you'll rise to the occasion, though." And she'd expect him to, little by little.

Hawke shook her head with incredulity, though she did not contest what he had to say. If he wanted to handle it, who was she to stop him? She'd done enough protesting before at the restaurant about the consequences this would bring them both. If he was prepared for the risk, then so be it.

The tingle that came from his reciprocation wasn't from the brandy, she could tell that much. She leaned back into his fingers when they kissed and even when they parted, cheek against his. Her arm went up across his shoulders and kept him there, the gesture oddly gentle for all of her previous innuendo. A slight turn of her head granted her access to nudge the side of his jaw and press another kiss there, smiling.

"Repeated exposure is bound to inure me to it all eventually. Who knows? Maybe one day I'll be the one making you blush." He doubted it would be happening any time soon.

And then he wasn't thinking about that at all. He tipped his head for her, the pulse at the side of his throat visible and quickened. His arm that had rested across her shoulders lowered into an embrace with her turn toward him. "I think we might want to cap the brandy," he murmured. It would be a shame to have a spill when things were going well.

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