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Merrill was so close to a breakthrough, she was sure of it. The mirror she’d picked up at an antique shop was certainly magical, certainly elven, despite the shop owner’s claim that it only mimicked the form. And all she wanted to do was head back to her apartment and try, once again, to learn its secrets. To spark its magic. To spark the magic she knew lay within her, dormant, waiting for just the right words to return to the world.
Instead, she was stuck at the publishing office all day for work.
Anders had spilled his coffee that morning, all over the floor by her desk. The carpeted floor, which smelled now like a latte. Merrill didn’t even like coffee.
Then she’d been in a meeting with Hawke, Isabela, and Meredith around when she usually took her lunch break. As usual, Meredith was a complete pain to deal with, never budging, dismissing Isabela’s sales experience, and sliding a handful of elven microaggressions in, to boot. Nothing actionable, according to Bran in HR. Of course.
Hungry, she took her lunch break late. It helped, but on her return, she was called into Varric’s office.
“Daisy,” he said, looking tired. He slid a brochure proof across his desk. “I need you to focus.”
“I am focused,” she protested.
He raised an eyebrow and turned the page. Merrill winced. The proof had come back printed entirely wrong on the inside. The right side of each paragraph was cut off at the edges, and on the other, the bleed hadn’t been adjusted right, leaving a long stripe of white at the end.
“I can’t have this happen again,” Varric said. “My brother is already looking to shrink our team, and I don’t want to lose a single one of you. But we have five hundred of these catastrophes sitting in boxes, now.”
Merrill made her apologies, made her promises, ate her crow. Her head hung low as she left his office, returning hastily to her desk. She knew Varric would cover for her, a little, probably blaming the new, required printing software update that was giving them all fits, but still.
The sight of 3 new email notifications on her open laptop made her want to scream.
There was a knock on her cubicle wall. Looking up, she saw Hawke.
“Hey,” said Hawke. “Let’s go get some caffeine.”
“Right now? I should probably…”
Hawke shut her laptop with one hand, shaking her head. “Nuh-uh. Time for hot drinks. My treat.”
So Merrill went with her to the coffee shop a few blocks down. As they entered the coffee shop, Hawke took her hand. With only momentary hesitation, Merrill let her.
It was a little loud inside Hanged Man Coffee, but still cozy as usual. They chatted aimlessly while waiting in line, Hawke being an excellent conversationalist when she was in the mood.
“So… How’s the shitty day?” Hawke asked.
“Awful,” Merrill admitted, cupping her hands around her herbal tea for warmth. “I just want to be at home.”
“Something important going on?”
“Nothing really,” Merrill demurred, glancing away. “Tired of work, that’s all.”
“Ah, of course,” said Hawke, with a strange note of humor in her voice. Was she being teased? Merrill looked back at Hawke, and found Hawke nudging a corner of some torn lined paper at her.
Merrill flinched. The note was hers. Specifically, it included some doodles on theoretical ancient elven language that were, if not explicitly illegal, very much the next step to rediscovering magic, which was.
She scrambled to take it from Hawke, shoving it into her purse, cursing her carelessness. Pleadingly, she looked at Hawke, but she found her still amused. Unconcerned.
“It’s not what you think?” Merrill squeaked.
“I think you have interesting hobbies. Definitely more interesting than slogging away at Kirkwall Publishing. You like to act all shy, but you have some sneaky ambitions, huh? And a wicked sense of humor. I don’t think Meredith even noticed a couple of digs you made at her today.” Hawke leaned in a little, close enough that Merrill could see the fine glitter in her bold, blood-red eyeshadow. “Can I take you on a date sometime?”
“What?” Merrill said, fully off-balance.
“I’ve been wanting to ask you for ages, but I didn’t want to stir up office drama…” Hawke grinned. “Then I thought, if that happens, we could use a little fun drama, instead of the boring drama of all our upper management being assholes all the time.”
Merrill tucked her hair behind her ear, still catching up with the speed at which Hawke spoke. “You’re asking me out?”
“Yeah. Please don’t leave me hanging?” Hawke frowned. “Unless a cutie like you already has someone-”
“No, no!” said Merrill, shaking her head. She retained enough sense not to blurt that she had only dated a little in the small elven community that had raised her, and it hadn’t gone well.
“Great!” Hawke relaxed. It was a subtle thing, more posture than anything else. Merrill wondered, not for the first time, how much of Hawke’s absurd confidence was a show. “I hope the timing’s alright. I just saw what a miserable time you’d had, and thought a distraction might help.”
Merrill slowly smiled. Hawke made her feel so… seen. In a way that she hadn’t, really at all, since moving to a big city. Hawke had caught her humor and her passion, and instead of hating her for it, or wanting her gone, she’d asked her on a date. “That’s oddly sweet, actually.”
Hawke put a hand on her shoulder, more friendly than intimate - for now. “How about you come with me for dinner after work, then? Call it motivation to make it through the rest of the day. Maybe we can swap tales - I can share a little about Ferelden and my ridiculous family; you can tell me about your hobbies and maybe show me your work…”
“If you’re not careful, you’ll sound like you’re blackmailing me into a date,” Merrill teased. When Hawke looked stricken, she threw her hands up. “I’m sorry! I know you’re not serious, it was a joke!”
Hawke snickered at her, then laughed, loud and joyous. Merrill sipped at her tea to keep from grinning too widely.