“Maker’s breath, Varric, that isn’t a mental image I need,” Hawke managed through her laughter, pinching the bridge of her nose. “And it’s definitely not one I wanted. Ever.” She grabbed her tankard and downed the rest of its contents. “I don’t think there’s enough ale in the world to scrub that image from my mind.”
Varric tries valiantly for the deadpan serious shit, but an incredibly undignified cackle bursts out of him. As always, he's incredibly pleased with himself, and delighted by his own jokes- though not half as much as he's delighted by the disgust on her face.
"Not enough ale, but maybe some weird fan mail," he says conversationally, taking a swig of ale and picking a random letter off the table. Without looking at it he wings it at her. This game is fun: open the weird fanmail, see if it's an uninvited critique, a marriage proposal, or someone swearing that they actually saw Donnen Brennokovic in Cumberland the other day, seriously!
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branchandroot
no subject
Date: 2018-01-08 06:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-01-08 07:50 am (UTC)"Not enough ale, but maybe some weird fan mail," he says conversationally, taking a swig of ale and picking a random letter off the table. Without looking at it he wings it at her. This game is fun: open the weird fanmail, see if it's an uninvited critique, a marriage proposal, or someone swearing that they actually saw Donnen Brennokovic in Cumberland the other day, seriously!