[Varric tucked the pencil into his book and closed it gingerly. For a moment, he drummed his fingers against the cover, oddly silent for the fast-talking dwarf. He had tried, in vain, to avoid this conversation, figuring it best to not shove the mistakes Anders' had yet to make in his face. Hawke hadn't taken it well, and he doubted the blond would either.]
[Cassandra had once made it a habit to call vapid and self-absorbed man, and maybe she was right. If he hadn't been caught up in himself, he could have noticed the signs sooner. Hell, even if he hadn't, maybe just a little more effort might have spared him.]
[He made a note to complain to the captains at some point in the near future. This blighted trip was making him feel things more often than he cared to.]
[But what was he supposed to say? He'd written books that drove women wild. He'd captivated audiences with his prose, and talked bandits down with his tongue. Yet in the face of losing a friend, all that seemed worthless.]
no subject
[Cassandra had once made it a habit to call vapid and self-absorbed man, and maybe she was right. If he hadn't been caught up in himself, he could have noticed the signs sooner. Hell, even if he hadn't, maybe just a little more effort might have spared him.]
[He made a note to complain to the captains at some point in the near future. This blighted trip was making him feel things more often than he cared to.]
[But what was he supposed to say? He'd written books that drove women wild. He'd captivated audiences with his prose, and talked bandits down with his tongue. Yet in the face of losing a friend, all that seemed worthless.]
What if I asked you to stay?