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I. Synonym
“What’s a synonym for ‘fuck no’.”
Varric isn’t often rendered speechless. But, having just rolled up to the drive thru window of the local ice cream shop ‘SwirlStation’, he isn’t certain the question is directed at him.
“Pardon?” Varric asks.
The woman behind the counter passes a phone through the drive thru window. The screen is split in two and the sides are lined with two dozen or so glitter stickers. Despite the obstruction, the most recent text from the sender labeled ‘cat himbo’ is visible.
at store rn
out of fruit loops
fruit rings ok?
“I feel ‘fuck no’ might not be extreme enough,” she says.
“I’m partial to ‘not on your life’,” Varric says. “But, due to the severity of their misjudgment, I would also suggest an emoji accompaniment.”
Varric taps on the desired emoji and returns the phone to the woman. The owner of the phone smiled down at his selection.
“You’ve got taste, uh,” she says motioning at him.
“Varric.”
“Varric,” she says, as if testing the name. “I’d give you a dipped cone on the house. But, I’m not supposed to do that. I’m going to ring you up for one though. It’ll be 1.99 at the next window.”
It isn’t what Varric came for, but he doesn’t protest when she waves him along.
II. Beer
“Want a beer?”
The woman is the same one as before. She’s cute, Varric notes. He’d noticed the last time too, but he'd written it off as the departure from reality he often experiences after a particularly good writing session. Seeing her again, Varric knows it isn’t something as transient as that.
“No chance the ‘SwirlStation’ has a liquor license,” he says.
“Definitely not,” she agrees. “It’s from my personal collection. I’m not above sharing an open container with a complete stranger in an extremely public setting.”
“I have one condition,” Varric says and reaches for her beer.
He takes a swig and passes it back to her.
“Before I’ve signed on to be your partner in crime,” he says. “Tell me something about yourself. I’d be down for 50 years to life for a bestie, but I'm not doing time in the clink for a stranger.”
“What do you even want to know,” she snorts.
“Pineapple on pizza?” he asks.
“An abomination.”
“Your favorite color?”
“Purple.”
“Worst way to prepare a hot dog?”
“Over the heat of an active volcano,” she says, then hesitates. “Or in the microwave.”
“Social security number?”
“I definitely have one.”
“Your name.”
“I have one of those as well.”
They trade the bottle back and forth with each question. By the last question, the bottle is nearly empty.
“Your turn,” she says and taps on the bottom of the bottle to get at the last drop.
“You’re wrong. Red. Boiled. 420-69-forget-about-it. And Varric,” he says. “But you already knew that last one, stranger.”
“Hawke,” she says. “Call me Hawke.”
III. Dare
“Will you fix my horn?”
Hawke, while semi-dressed in her usual ‘SwirlStation’ fashion, has a crooked unicorn horn strapped to her forehead and opalescent wings creeping out on either side of her T-shirt. Her usually bare face is painted heavily with blushes and shadows of a rainbow variety. Varric goes cross-eyed at the clash of colors.
“Do I even want to know?” He asks, reaching forward to fulfill her request.
“I’m celebrating Halloween early,” Hawke says.
“She lost a dare,” says a voice from behind her. “Hey, Varric.”
Fenris, Hawke’s favorite night shift co-worker, appears and passes Varric his milkshake.
“We’re calling it ‘Flavors of Fall',” Hawke says, changing the subject away from her attire.
The treat is another random selection. And, as Varric doesn’t bother to order for himself anymore, he accepts it without a fight. Hawke disregards his preference half the time anyhow. He’s been a regular at the 'SwirlStation' since mid-June. He’s had time to adjust.
“Original name,” he says and passes Fenris a heavily creased 5 dollar bill in exchange.
“We should celebrate, though,” Hawke says.
“Celebrate your losing of the bet?” Varric asks.
“Halloween,” she asks with a raspberry blown in his direction. “You in? Varric? Fenris?"
“What did you have in mind?” He asks.
Her crooked grin is enough of an answer.
"I do so hate that look," says Fenris.
IV. Rabbits
“How do you feel about rabbits?”
“Bugs Bunny gives me the creeps,” Varric says. “But I have no strong feelings on the species as a whole. They've got cute noses.”
“You’re afraid of Bugs Bunny?” She asks.
“I didn’t say afraid ,” Varric says with a shrug. “He’s both flippant and insincere. A true scourge among the rabbit mascot breed.”
“Want to talk about it?” Hawke asks with a faux pout.
“It’d only hold up the line,” he says with a wave to the vacant parking lot.
“Good, because this,” she says, lifting a ball of brown and white fluff from her lap. “Is a bit time sensitive.”
“Tell me I’m hallucinating,” Varric says.
He isn’t. It is indeed a rabbit. The creature dangles before him, calm and accepting of her sudden manhandling.
“He needed a babysitter.” Hawke says and bops the creature on the nose. “I told Merrill I would, so he’s under my care. Except not for the next hour. The district manager is due in fifteen and rabbits are a big no-no in the 'SwirlSation' conduct manual. I checked.”
“You want me to babysit a rabbit?” Varric asks, still processing.
“Perfect,” Hawke says and holds the creature to him. “I accept your offer.”
Wait.
“No, I wasn’t,” Varric says.
He then sighs in resignation. He likes Merrill and wouldn't mind doing both her and Hawke this favor. He thinks this, as if he has a choice. As if he isn't totally gone on Hawke.
“Pass it here,” he says. "Before I change my mind."
He’s never babysat a rabbit before. It could be fun.
V. Date
“Tell me I look good,”
She’s dressed up. Varric spots a collar of holographic sequins peeking out from underneath her ‘SwirlStation’ polo. Hawke’s habitually wild bangs are pinned up with barrets of black jelly.
“You look good,” Varric says without missing a beat. “What’s the occasion?”
“I’ve got a date tonight,” she says.
Varric ignores the uncomfortable squirming of his guts. He’d taken too long in asking Hawke out. Now, Varric realizes solemnly, he might never get the chance.
“Where at?” He asks, feigning nonchalance.
“Tsk tsk, if you want deets,” Hawke says. “Proceed to window two.”
Varric follows her instruction and waits in anxious silence.
Knock, knock.
Varric turns toward the noise, spotting Hawke on his passenger side. He leans over to open the door and Hawke slides into the seat next to him with ease. She passes him one of the two treats she just assembled.
“Walking off the job?” Varric asks. “It’s courtesy to give some notice. Somewhere between 30 days and 30 seconds.”
“I’m off,” she says. “My shift ended at a quarter to.”
Varric runs his thumb across the dust obscuring the time display of the dashboard.
“A half an hour ago,” he says. “They don’t pay you extra for loitering.”
“I’m waiting on my date,” she says.
“…in my car?” Varric asks, just to double check he isn’t missing anything.
She sips at her treat with an amused shrug.
Oh. She’s teasing him.
“Are you asking me out?” Varric asks, his guts squirming for a different reason.
She hums an affirmative sound.
“Might as well accept too,” she says. “Since you've already paid for dessert.”
“I always pay for your dessert, Hawke,” Varric says.
“Exactly,” she says with a dramatic gulp of her malt. “I figured you’d have gotten the message a long time ago.”
He laughs at her. Then, he laughs at himself. He hadn’t taken too long. He has a date.
Together, Varric and the most ridiculous woman he has ever met, speed far away from the ‘SwirlStation’ and toward something new.