knightcaptain:

“I can only imagine,” he said, seemingly unconvinced as he turned his gaze back to Isabela.

He took another drink from his mug, this time much more liberal than the first. He thought that if he drank it down quick enough the taste would leave his mouth. No such luck. He grimaced slightly, but made no complaints. “Not on purpose? You think I’ll be coming here by mistake?” he asked, a grin tugging at his lips. “So far I’m not… completely opposed to the place. But I do think I will have a thorough scrubbing when I go back to the barracks.”

With a shudder, he took yet another drink, his flagon now halfway empty. “I take it you know all of the goings-on around here?” A stupid question, perhaps, but he had to start somewhere.

“Mm, that I do,” she replied simply. The heel of her boot slipped until it was half hanging off of the chair, pushing just enough against it to tilt her chair back onto two legs. Lifting a hand, she gestured vaguely in the direction of a cluster of men on the opposite side of the room. “That lot works for Athenril,” she began, “Most of them started off thinking they could get into those tight leather trousers of hers. Little did they know, that little minx of a smuggler only likes women.” Snorting quietly, she shook her head. “Men and their elves - I’ll never understand it.”

Waving a hand in the opposite direction, she flicked her index finger at the barkeep. “Vincent can’t keep his hands to himself on a good day. Not only that, but he goes on about the same thing all the bloody time. I think I’ve heard about the inevitable extinction of pigeons a hundred times over the past year or two.” She grabbed for the bottle of wine, tipping it over and pouring another portion into her flagon.

“What about you?” Isabela asked, letting her chair fall back to the ground with a thump as she leaned across the table to refill his glass. “Everyone has something to say about themselves. I’m… curious.”

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knightcaptain:

Maker save me if I make it through tonight. He tried his best to avert his gaze as she leaned against the bar, but it only made him want to look more. He needed to maintain at least a fraction of his self-control, but it seemed like even that was evading his grasp recently. Perhaps he really did need what she was offering.

Cullen followed her to the table with his pint in hand. When they sat down, he took the opportunity to remove his gauntlets and set them on the table. His hands were a little clammy from the warm lining within, but not altogether unsightly. “I will certainly try,” he sighed, raising his drink toward her. With that, he took a long sip. She wasn’t joking when she called it “bilge,” even if it was the good stuff. But it would do the trick as well as anything else.

“Though I must admit I’m unaccustomed to the… scenery.” As he said this, his eyes moved to an argument brewing across the room. Something about who was going to “have a poke” at a wench first.

“A colorful lot, these few,” Isabela said, unable and unwilling to hold back a lecherous little giggle as Samuel - oh, sweet Samuel, what an arse - pulled the serving girl into his lap to finish the squabble as quickly as it’d begun. “They’re good company. Shit company when they’re sober, though, but luckily that very rarely happens.”

Shooting another smile at him, she tilted her pint back, gulping down a quarter of it in one go and setting it back on the table. “I’d say ‘you’ll get used to it,’ but I have a feeling you won’t be returning anytime soon,” she continued, pulling her feet up to rest them on the chair next to her and folding her arms casually beneath her breasts. Her smile turned into little more than a roguish tilt of her lips. “Not on purpose at least.”

knightcaptain:

Lowtown was not Cullen’s ideal haunt. Actually, anywhere beyond the barracks or his office were unofficially off-limits to him. The smells alone were enough to make him want to turn on his heel and forget the invitation ever happened. However, he was not about to go back on his word. On his way to…

Isabela was leaning heavily against the bar when Cullen stepped up next to her. She glanced over at him, eyes flicking over his face before giving him a lopsided grin. “So you have!” Content with her greeting, she rolled onto the balls of her feet, stretching over the bar until she was half-way on top of it, fishing around beneath the counter for the ‘good’ stuff. One leg popped up, ankle swishing around as she struggled to reach for the bottle and two flagons with only two hands to do so with.

“Aha!” she proclaimed, wriggling off of the bartop and rocking back onto her feet. Showing off her ‘prize’ with another of her winning smiles, she handed him off one of the empty pints before ushering him over to one of the more empty tables. The Hanged Man was packed to the teeth, but there was always somewhere empty to sit when Isabela wanted to entertain company. It would have been disconcerting if not for how pleasantly it worked out in her favor.

Sitting down on one of the chairs, she immediately popped the cork free from the bottle’s mouth and tilted forward in her chair to pour him a drink. “Settle in and enjoy yourself, hm?”

fistoflyrium:

dwarfinthedaylight:

fistoflyrium replied to your post:

You’d just want an excuse to hear me tell ‘wild tales’.

You’re an elven ex-slave covered in magically applied lyrium tattoos and capable of manually taking a man’s heart from his chest.

Wild doesn’t…

OOC: Is this is where I make a humble offering of fic to accompany this conversation? I think it is.

knightcaptain:

goldandgiggles:

knightcaptain:

goldandgiggles:

No need to apologize. Though you should look to that. You’re tense; that can be… dangerous. A drink, maybe? I promise to keep my hands to myself.

Yes. A drink would be nice. Your usual haunt, I suspect? 

Of course. Where else would I entertain? The Hanged Man’s bilge is less bilge-y than every other tavern in Lowtown.

I hardly think “bilge” sounds appetizing, but I will be there shortly if you’ll have me.

I’ll be expecting you, then! I promise to make the barkeep trot out the ‘good’ stuff.

knightcaptain:

goldandgiggles:

No need to apologize. Though you should look to that. You’re tense; that can be… dangerous. A drink, maybe? I promise to keep my hands to myself.

Yes. A drink would be nice. Your usual haunt, I suspect? 

Of course. Where else would I entertain? The Hanged Man’s bilge is less bilge-y than every other tavern in Lowtown.