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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"So it's official, then? I'm not a one night stand?" he asked, his smile playfully coy. "Good to know."

He grew more serious at the following topic and found himself nodding before she had fully finished voicing it. "I agree. As I said before, I prefer discretion, but that's not the same thing as sneaking around. What we did tonight was an exception. We'd be idiots to let the Coterie in on our personal lives before we've done much to give a reason for gossip."

He turned his empty water glass between his hands, less a nervous gesture than just something to do with them. "No, if things keep going well, and we decide it's serious enough to warrant others knowing about it, then that's the day we stop being so careful about who sees us where." He cleared his throat. "If someone discovers before that, I'm not going to scramble around for excuses or act like this is something shameful. It isn't, and I refuse to give anyone that sort of leverage."

"The crabs sold me, I'll have you know. If these can come out so well with only a little direction, then you have more of a knack for it than you let on," she teased. "It might have also been the blush."

She nodded emphatically, popping another small piece of crab into her mouth and chewing while he spoke. "The Coterie is an entirely different story. No one is going to willingly throw information into the hands of potential enemies. Not you, not me, no one in their right mind. If we sneak around, it's for our own protection, not to hide this." That was only partially true; she would still sneak around for the sake of keeping her friends out of her business, if only because she wasn't yet ready for the consequences of what might just be a deeper friendship than anything else.

"It's not shameful. Not in the least." He wasn't her dirty secret on the side, Templar or no. She wasn't interested in seeing him for his occupation any more than he was interested in her status. "So long as the people who find us aren't Madame Lusine or the numerous people who want me dead, I'll agree to that."

He almost said something dreadfully off color, deciding against it at the last minute with a visible effort to hold it back. He opted instead for the safer option. "It will be the first time I can say I'm glad I blush easily."

He cracked another crab leg. "If people who want you dead find us, well...they may find they've bitten off more than they can chew." Unless they were people of status whose deaths could be very inconvenient, he wasn't opposed to cutting down that particular population.

"It sounds to me as though we're in agreement about how to handle this." He pulled out a plump piece of meat from the upper segment, humming under his breath at how tender it was.

"I'll take that as an accomplishment." She lifted an eyebrow when she realized there might have been something else. "...What?"

She snorted softly as she followed suit, another piece cracked open so she could pry out the meat from inside. "That's typically what happens. I imagine the look of surprise on their faces at seeing you beside me will make it almost worth it." Killing was a necessary chore some days but she didn't revel in it, nor in that fact that she was good at what she did.

With a nod, she handed another piece of bread down to the dog. "It would do us a disservice otherwise," she said first, choosing her words carefully. She was less concerned about the populace discovering them as she was about her friends or Meredith and what would come of that. "At least we'll have our privacy for the time being, provided we don't start hearing rumors in the next week or so. If we do, maybe I can convince Varric to start an even more ridiculous rumor to push out."

"Not a thing." He looked far too innocent.

"I imagine so, or perhaps if one of my enemies comes upon us unaware. It will make for some interesting times." He didn't enjoy killing. If he was being completely honest with himself, however, he had found a certain appeal in having the chance to fight with her again. They had managed well together. It would have been much better had he been in armor.

"I still nominate the brash and handsome Nevarran dragon hunter." His lips twitched in amusement. He was beginning to slow in his eating. At first he had been concerned they may not have caught enough. With the bread, he found the meal quite filling.

"Ohhh no. You're not getting away so easily, Sera. I know that look."

She couldn't decide which of their enemies would be more surprised. It was a nice thought, dangerous in its undercurrents, and she stashed it away. It wasn't just the prospect of fighting beside him that had her occupied but the implications of it. It would look like she'd cast her lot in fully with the Templars, even if she was his ally over theirs.

Her laugh was quiet. "Oh, yes. Marian Hawke was absconding with a Nevarran dragon hunter one night. But then I'd have to explain why you were there instead of him once talk starts flying. Perhaps you chased him off when you suspected he was a lowly thief and that's why I was so cross with you in the Rose." She took another bite of bread and waited until she had swallowed before chuckling again. "It's just ridiculous enough to be distracting."

He eyed her for several long moments as he weighed the pros and cons of simply spitting it out. At last he relented with a muttered, "Just remember you pressed me to this. I was going to say it was the first time I had ever heard it said that crabs were an asset when it came to courting." He didn't get it out without red rising from the neck of his shirt to his hairline.

"Simple. It was a case of mistaken identity. I was chasing a blood mage of a similar description. I went after him before either of you had a chance to explain. By the time it was over, my quarry was gone also, so I was cross, as well. It wasn't a good night for us." He pried open the smaller segment, smiling a closed lipped smile after popping it into his mouth.

There was, perhaps, a moment of silence that hung between them as she blinked at the joke. And then she snorted, the sound very unladylike, and dissolved into laughter. She pressed the back of her hand against her mouth to quiet herself with little success. His blushing made it all the better. "Maker, that was terrible. I deserved that," she managed after several moments.

"Blood magic. Perfect solution." She grinned at the leg she finally succeeding in cracking open. "I had to offer you some compensation for all of your trouble. Thankfully, a meal sufficed." A pleased hum escaped her. "A very good meal, actually."

"Now you see why I thought better of saying it," he said. Her laughter freed his. He rolled his eyes at himself. "Maker's breath."

However, soon enough he was laughing harder. "Right, a meal you made me cook, you wretch. No wonder I was scowling so hard when I left the estate. I didn't realize it came with such strings attached." He dug out the smallest section of the leg. "All of that is outrageous enough that no one will ever believe it. Just enough embellishment to sound completely baked."

Her laughter continued. "Oh, I'm the wretch, am I? What happened to 'We have crabs, Madame Lusine'?" She grinned, the tease light. It was funnier in hindsight. "Cooking a meal is the very least you can do, I think," she said slyly. "Chasing off my Nevarran dragon hunter and then dragging me into the Rose. Really, Knight-Captain, people will talk."

She smiled, pulling out some more of the meat onto her plate. "I think it'd be just enough to keep people talking and no one would be the wiser for a time. Just long enough for something else to happen."

"I'll be shocked if that quote doesn't come back to haunt me for some time to come," he said, "either from you or the populace at large. You know that horrible woman will take delight in spreading that around. And if I were you, there's no way I'd let me live it down any time soon. You're better off without that Navarran. With them it's all talk about how big their lances are." He dropped his voice. "I suspect overcompensation for something."

He sat back, fighting his smile. "That's something we can just about count on. Something else is going to happen. Look at where we live."

"Oh, I know she will. She'll tell a few of her girls to spread it around the Rose and you'll get word of it one way or another." It was a little frustrating that she could get away with it, too. All he would be able to do would be to feign ignorance or deny it, and even then, people might not believe him. She smiled. "Is that so? Maybe I'll have to set my sights elsewhere."

She chuckled softly, though it wasn't one of amusement. "Bloody Kirkwall. I wouldn't worry about it too much. It'll be forgotten soon enough." Not by her, though, and her smile said as much.

"Never underestimate the power of Templar denial." His lips twitched slightly. "I have most of Kirkwall convinced I'm a boring, dour man. That impression will hold past anything Madame Lusine can throw at me."

He shook his head at that smile, eyes alight with amusement. "I've had a very good time tonight. I'm glad you agreed to the date idea. Thank you."

"You certainly had me convinced." She should have known better. How many people had once thought that of her own father, never knowing of his magic or his past? Cullen had no grand secret (none that she could find, anyway), but he was still far from boring, no matter what anyone said.

"The pleasure's mine. Really, it is." She smiled. "I'm glad you suggested it in the first place. I don't think I've laughed or eaten so well in a long time." That latter comment was possibly a joke. The former was not.

"I consider that an accomplishment. It's difficult bullshitting a bullshitter." He cracked a final crab leg to pick at, clearly picking just because it tasted good and not because he was hungry anymore.

"I haven't laughed this much in ages, myself. I won't toot my own horn when it comes to the cooking. I think your instruction had more to do with that than any special ability on my part. Soldiers are good at following instructions." He chased the crab with a little bread.

Her smile was pleasant as she took a sip of her drink, finishing her glass. "It's better to let people assume something about you, I've found," she said innocently. "It's much more fun to surprise them at a later date." It got him to come out with her, didn't it?

"I bet if you had the opportunity to cook them again, you'd do just fine. You could impress your recruits too." She finished the piece she was working on and set to work on making another plate for the dog, feeling him brush up against her foot. "Don't butter me up. It's easy to look over someone's shoulder. I could just as easily have had you overcook them." She picked up the bowl she'd given the mabari and filled it partway, setting it back in front of him.

"You managed to surprise me. Very pleasantly." His smile was warm as he reached for his napkin to wipe his hands.

"Ha. I'll tell the recruits how to cook them and sit back and reap the rewards. Circle of life in the Templar world. Builds character, so I was told when it was my turn to be the grunt." He laughed. "You had good incentive not to do that. You worked for them first. Let's call it a successful joint effort, and we can both bask in the praise."

"That's how it turns out so perfectly. The labor of others while you sit back and enjoy them working." She grinned, standing with her plate and going over to the counter.

"That's really why your cooking doesn't come out right most of the time. You're doing all of the work yourself. Sit back and let someone else do it while you give orders. Just don't forget to make sure they're not burning anything." Grabbing a towel, she wiped her own hands as she came back to sit.

"That's how I usually enjoy my meals," he said agreeably. He didn't miss the days of kitchen duty and cleaning duty, not even a little bit.

"Would you like some help in cleaning up? I'd feel guilty leaving a mess." He didn't like to think about leaving. It was getting closer to the time that he'd need to make that decision.

She chuckled quietly as she picked up the other few dishes. "I wish I could say I was lazy enough to leave them for Bodahn or Orana...but I'm not that much of a wretch." And it wasn't in her nature to leave work for others. The food and the fire had her pleasantly warm. Being out all evening only meant that she could just as well go nap if he hadn't been there. She was well aware he'd have to go soon enough.

"If you'd like to help, certainly. I'm not sure what I'll need to do with the pieces. I'll save that for later when it's not so dark." But the dishes could be washed at the very least and the kitchen could be cleaned so poor Orana didn't feel overly burdened.

"Yes, I'd like to help," he said, standing and moving to gather dishes on his side of the table. "I'll wash or dry. It doesn't matter to me." He wouldn't feel right about making this degree of a mess only to leave it to her to clean it all up.

He dumped his cracked and empty shells with the rest of the mess they had made in cleaning the crabs and set the few pieces that still contained meat aside. Whether she wanted to snack on them or feed them to the dog was something she could decide later. "Just tell me where you want me."

"I'll set you to drying, I think," she said with a mild half-smile. "Let me get some water for the basin first." She started for the door and glanced back, hearing him setting the food aside.

"He can have whatever's left, if you're finished." It might have been an innocent suggestion had she been talking about him feeding one of the other noble's pets and not a mabari. As it was, the hound's back end started shaking, his tail wagging back and forth in excitement at the idea. "You can handle that, can't you?"

"If I can't, you'll know by the screaming," he said, mostly teasing. There wasn't much left to break apart and pick out. He got to work on it, placing the meat in the same bowl she had been setting down for the dog periodically through the dinner.

"Not much longer now," he assured Max. "Just these final few bits." He was quick about setting the bowl down, not jerking or making weird movements, just not foolish enough to get between a war hound and the food he wanted to eat.

"I'm certain he'd go for your throat first if he really didn't like you," she said, clearly not helping matters. She stayed only long enough to see the mabari begin to prance on his hind quarters, no trace of hostility in his stance, and then she ducked out to get a bucket of cold water from the well.

He waited with a facade of patience until the bowl hit the floor, and then he was on it, dipping his muzzle into the ceramic and wolfing down the food. She came back and eyed them both, pouring the water into the metal basin they used to clean dishes, setting to work. She smiled. "All four limbs intact, I see. Nothing to worry about."

"Or if the prospect of how I taste is somehow more tempting." He added in an undertone he knew the dog would hear, "Lyrium has an awful aftertaste. I wouldn't."

While she was outside, he finished getting everything gathered in one place for the washing, pleased to still be in possession of both hands and an intact throat. "I think he doesn't dislike me." It was as far as he'd go for now. Perhaps over time he could get the dog to warm up to him. He had no intention of being pushy.

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