Ghost Story

[Marian Hawke]

"Iffin you say so," she concedes. "Where do I start?"

[Varric]

Varric considers that a moment, then shrugs. "You busy now?"

[Marian Hawke]

"No."

Over the next few hours, he sets her to task repairing and straightening an office for him to work out of while he does the same in the bedroom. To her credit, she takes instruction well, and improvises decently when she runs into problems; on the downside, she never once seeks him out to ask how to do anything, preferring to improvise rather than bother him. 

When they're set for the day, he serves up a simple porridge he'd set on the fire before coming upstairs. Of course, it's not to half-elf liking, not by a long shot, but she devours it like she's never seen food before. Unsurprising, given she weighs about the same as a bird. 

[Varric]

Not the way I'd have gone about it (who wants their back to a window?) but not bad, is Varric's initial judgement of the office after he peeks in to call her down for dinner. Her reaction to his porridge gets a narrowed eyed look, but he lets it go for now. "Why toss out the bookshelves? Instead of trying to repair them," he asks after she's halfway done her second bowl.

[Marian Hawke]

"Mold and spiders." She swallows the mouthful of porridge. "Figured they were a lost cause. Saved some of the books, though."

[Varric]

"You get bit?" Varric demands. 

[Marian Hawke]

She nods. "A few times. I don't think they're poisonous. Just itchy."

[Varric]

"Not your call. Where?" He rises to his feet, already pulling out a leather-bound box that opens up to reveal far more space inside than should be possible along with scores of vials, jars, small silk bags sealed with lead and crystals.

[Marian Hawke]

Marian rolls up a sleeve of her thin gown, revealing small, red welts all up and down her arm. "This is the arm I reached in with."

[Varric]

Varric hisses a little. "How did you get bit this much?" he asks, inspecting the arm without touching her.

[Marian Hawke]

"There was a whole nest, and I wanted to get the books out before I tossed it."

[Varric]

Varric stares at her. "Gloves?"

[Marian Hawke]

"Didn't have any." She shrugs, shoveling another spoonful of burnt porridge into her mouth. 

[Varric]

"Why wouldn't you ask me if I did? I have a dozen pairs, from magically inert cotton to dragonhide."

[Marian Hawke]

"I, uh." She rubs the back of her neck. "I didn't want to bother you."