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"Krem! Krem...Kreeemmmmmississy," the floundering was only getting louder, drawing the attention of the Charger. Finally.
"Inquisitor."
She laughed, her body leaning, bent by the table in front of her. "I like you Krem. We- should be friends."
"Inquisitor?"
"Also. Did you know you're lovely? Just- lovely."
The normal lager the Teviniter soldier usually drank wavered in his hand, but Wevryn did not notice.
"Just. I like your armor. And your voice. You have a nice voice. I like it. And your hair! I really like your hair."
She was drawing attention to herself, not only from her companions but the few stragglers left at so late a time of night. "We really should be friends."
Bull was trying not to laugh, while Sera simply cackled. Wevryn cared little. She was pleasantly drunk. After the shit storm of being physically in the Fade, she needed the alcohol running through her veins.
Her hand reached up to touch at her own temple, stroking the fine white strands. "I want to touch it." The way the Charger blanched broke Bull, his own laughter joining the din.
But the soft grasp of a hand stopped her from lunging further over the table. "It seems we should be cutting you off." Wevryn's head whipped upwards, making her dizzy, her eyes having to adjust to the taller man next to her.
Dorian was grinning, his mustache having seemingly taken a life of it's own, twitching in it's amusement.
"Dorian! We're friends!"
There was a chuckle, "indeed. I believe so."
"You have fantastic hair too."
"Why, yes, I do."
"I wanna touch it."
A look was shot toward Blackwall, a look, that had the elvhen woman been more sober, would have annoyed her. The look that Blackwall shot back, however, would have made her kiss the bearded man. She was no ones property and certainly did not need to be contained. Still, Dorian was grinning. Smirking really.
"Maybe another time."
Even as he said so, her hands were raising to follow through on her threat. At least until the door to the Herald's Rest flung open, a chilled wind blowing in and the Commander stood in the doorway. "Cullen!"
His eyes fell on the group and there was a half smile as he moved toward them, a focused stride in his step leading the way. Wevryn hardly noticed, instead she was slipping out of Dorian's grasp with a grace someone as inebriated as she was should not have been able to pull off, going to meet the Commander only feet away.
"Inquisi-"
He didn't get to finish as two slim dark hands were shoved into his hair, the elvhen woman on her toes as she bit her lip in some form of pleasure. "I love your hair."
His face was alight with pink. Cullen didn't even have the sense to move, stiffened by the touch and her brashness. His eyes darted from her to Dorian (who had finally lost it, his hand curled around Bull's shoulder to hold himself up), and then to Blackwall who looked entirely too amused. "Inqui..q...istor." His voice wavered, he had to clear it. "I-"
She stepped closer to him, fingers splaying in the smoothed curls. "How do you get it like this?" While the words were not slurred, there was a lit to them that clearly spoke of her lacking sobriety.
Cullen's brows folded, color still staining his cheeks, confusion and embarrassment now running rampant. "I- what?" The words were not directed at the petite woman but the companions still lining the table.
It was Cassandra, sober and previously silent, who lifted one shoulder, sipping at a cup. "She is particular about hair tonight."
"Human hair!" Wevryn clarified and her hands were slowly moving from his scalp to his cheeks. Cullen's eyes widened and he was suddenly very grateful for the Warden. Blackwall had stepped up and gently wrapped a hand around her wrist to pull her away.
"My lady." His voice was a low rumble, meant only for her ears.
She didn't even turn to him, simply let her body slip against his, her hand, backwards, moving to brush his beard, her head tilting to snuggle into the crook of his body. There was something muttered, low and affectionate, that no one but Cullen and Blackwall seemed to hear. "I love you too." Whether she was reiterating the comment about hair or just him, it wasn't clear, but Cullen looked sharply away from the tender gaze Blackwall focused on the lithe woman.
While the pub was still filled with noise, their little group had gone silent, most still with smirks playing over features. Cullen cleared his throat. And then again when he noticed the resident dwarf storyteller scribbling quickly over parchment. "Are you writing this all down?"
He didn't even know why he bothered to ask. Varric laughed. "Someone has too!" And a smack met his bicep from the usually harsh dark haired woman. "Ah Seeker, you judge too harsh. All names will be changed, maybe it will even make an appearance in the next S--"
"Do not utter another word Dwarf."
Cullen broke the laughter that had followed with a small cough and a short head nod. "I will leave you all to your revelries."
Wevryn was suddenly up, her face serious. "You will join us Commander." The voice was authoritative, the one she used upon judgements or arguments with nobility. And it did in fact stop the movement of his feet.
"Inquisitor I hardly want to-"
"You work yourself too hard, we've stopped a demon army. Rest. For one night."
His eyes swam around the room, landing back on the tiny woman that seemed to suddenly be more sober than the rest of the room combined; he gave a huffed sigh and shook his head, hand reaching to pinch at his brows. But. He was smiling. It was only the faintest raise of his lips, but Wevryn had caught it and her sobriety seemed gone, a wide smile crossing over her face, so bright the two men next to her almost felt blinded.
"Get the man an ale!" Cheers arose around the pub as the former Templar moved to take a seat.