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"Ah, there she is," Hawke said, sliding down onto the bench beside Isabela. Experience (and no small part Isabela's influence) had imbued her with a certain sense of confidence - a slight swagger in her step that made Merrill endlessly jealous and Isabela - though she'd obviously never admit it - just a little bit proud. "Queen of the Eastern Seas."
"I did always like that title." A crown forged from the ocean spray as she took her crew out on voyages that every other captain was too cautious or cowardly to attempt. "Even if it's ringing a little hollow right now." Giving up on Castillon's ship had been... well, not exactly hard, and that had been the infuriating part. She'd started getting bogged down with morals, and justice, and she'd had a knife in Castillon's throat before she knew it. Hawke had clearly been a terrible influence on her.
The woman in question shuffled slightly closer, and Isabela felt the warmth of her thigh pressed against her own. (She did not feel the heat rising in her cheeks, because that would be ridiculous.) "Darling Isabela. Light of my life."
Isabela could feel a crease forming between her brows, and did her utmost to smooth it out. No need to court wrinkles just because Hawke was acting weirdly. "It's a bit early in the day to be hitting the bottle, don't you think?"
Hawke grinned. It didn't entirely suit her - the smile Isabela was used to getting tended to be far more reserved. "If I'm drunk, it's only because I'm intoxicated by your presence."
"What? Are you saying I smell like a brewery or something?" She gave the air an exaggerated sniff. "Alright, you may have a point. Varric wouldn't let me use his bath. Said he was still traumatised by what we did in it last time."
There was a slight flush on Hawke's cheeks now, but that at least was normal. For all that Hawke had demonstrated time and again that she was hardly inexperienced, she was incredibly easy to rile up. Normally Isabela took great pleasure in this, but presently she was getting slightly concerned.
"My gorgeous and deadly force of nature," Hawke said, but it was clear she was starting to lose whatever momentum that had carried her thus far.
"You're not possessed, are you?" There was just enough levity in her voice to show that she was joking, just enough of a grip on one of her daggers if she suddenly found that joke to be in poor humour.
"No!" Hawke protested, sounding far more like her usual since. "I mean..." She cleared her throat. "Possessed by your beauty, perhaps, my..."
"If you call me your 'dusky goddess,' I'm kicking you out," Isabela warned, and was gratified to see Hawke pulling a face. At least she hadn't lost all sense. "I'm starting to really regret that 'feelings' talk."
Hawke's arm had snuck round her back, and Isabela leaned into the touch before she even realised she was doing it. Damn. "No take backs, sorry. I checked with Varric. It's against the rules."
Isabela sighed. "Well, I suppose I could have done worse." Hawke made a non-committal noise. She'd inched close enough that she was half sat on Isabela's lap. "Of course, at the time I didn't realise you were part limpet."
"More fool you," agreed Hawke, and she pressed a kiss against Isabela's cheek. "Thief of my heart?" Isabela rolled her eyes, but it was impossible to keep from smiling just a little.
"You could do worse," she said.