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Trevelyan wasn't sure how long he'd been in the Herald's Rest. Iron Bull had come and gone. Even Varric had shared a pint or two with him before retiring for the afternoon. Yes, he reminded himself. It was still afternoon. It was the afternoon and he'd had so many pints of ale he was starting to forget how to pronounce his own name.
He leaned over the wooden table to reach for his mug, serving only to push it just out of arm's reach. He swore loudly, trying to will his body to stretch just a bit further, but he wasn't sure which of the six glasses was the correct one. Or if any of the six were real.
"Need help," he mumbled, hoping he'd been loud enough for someone to hear. Suddenly the mug moved closer, as if possessed by a- "DEMON!"
"I am not a demon, stupid man," Cassandra sighed, the last bit nearly under her breath. "How much have you had to drink, Inquisitor?"
"You!" he shouted happily, nearly spilling his mug again. Cassandra deftly caught it before it tipped, rolling her eyes.
"Yes, me," she returned.
"You're Cassandra Allergy Porter Calligraphy Filbert Pentagoose!"
"Pardon?" she asked, stifling a laugh and trying to look upset.
"Cassandra... Alleg... a leg... a leg grow...?"
"Allegra," she corrected.
"Allygray..."
She sighed loudly.
"Portion..." She sighed again. "...Cal... Call... Calling her.."
"Inquisitor, you're embarrassing yourself." Cassandra's cheeks flushed red as Trevelyan kept on trying to say all six of her names.
"Fill... filled... filled with men?"
"TREVELYAN." This time she outright blushed.
"Pentaghast!"
"Well," Cassandra said with an exasperated sigh. "At least you got one right."
He beamed at her happily as he reached for another pint the barmaid had brought. Cassandra deftly snatched it from him before standing and grabbing him by the arm, hauling him to his feet.
"I think, Inquisitor, that you have had plenty enough already."
"Okay, Cassandra Allegory..."
"Maker preserve me..."