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Alistair wasn't sure what to think of the new warden.
Vincent Amell was confident, almost arrogant, in a way that Alistair could never manage. He led their motley group with charisma, drawing even the most different of them together for a single purpose.
And he flirted. With everyone. With Morrigan, with Leliana, with Wynne, even with Sten.
The worse was when they met the assassin on the road. Vincent had laughed, actually laughed, when the elf flirted back, inviting him to join them. And this after trying to kill them!
Alistair felt a burning in his stomach, and he didn't know if it was outrage or something else.
Something darker. Something like jealousy.
He didn't know why, didn't really understand it. He just knew that he didn't like this new member of their group.
Zevran didn't seem to mind. Vincent, on the other hand, started giving Alistair odd looks, and one day, soon after, sat down next to him at night, during his watch.
"So," he said casually, staring into the fire. "You're not very fond of Zevran."
"Well," Alistair said, somewhat taken aback at the straightforward question. "He did try to kill us."
Vincent frowned a bit.
"Yes, but Alistair. He didn't think he was going to succeed."
"What do you mean?"
Vincent grimaced.
"We're very skilled, and he attacked with poorly outfitted mercenaries. I'd be surprised if it was truly in earnest."
It made sense.
"But why?"
"I haven't asked him," Vincent admitted. "It seems... I don't know. Too personal. I don't know him well enough yet."
"You flirt like you do," Alistair said without thinking, the bitterness in his voice surprising even him.
"Well, I flirt with everyone. And Zevran flirts with everyone, too, or haven't you noticed him trying to get you to blush?"
"Oh," Alistair said, feeling foolish. "He does?"
"Yes." Vincent nudged Alistair's shoulder with his. "That's all right, though. You haven't noticed me flirting with you either. I guess I'll just have to be more obvious."
"Wait. What?"