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Summary
“Still,” Varric is saying, “the Hanged Man will always be home. Besides, with all the weird shit that happens in Kirkwall, there’s hardly a dull moment.”
Blackwall laughs. “If the world doesn’t end tonight, you’ll need to buy me a drink at your Hanged Man.”
“My my, Blackwall,” Dorian tuts, “I never took you for a man of… dwarven taste.” Varric laughs when Blackwall turns red, shaking his head.
“Sod off, mage,” he says, gruff with embarrassment.
“My opinion of you is so much higher knowing Varric has caught your eye. Tell me, is it truly the chest hair that does it for you?” Dorian teases, and Varric chokes down a laugh.
“No one is immune to my charms, Warden,” he says consolingly, and Blackwall gives an exasperated chuckle.
“Maker take you both,” he says, shaking his head.