Ghost Story

[Varric]

"You're more important than a few minutes of bother."

[Marian Hawke]

Really? To who? "I'm fine," she says instead. 

[Varric]

"Fine is rarely defined as to include more than a dozen spider bites."

[Marian Hawke]

"Well I'm a rare specimen."

[Varric]

"Which means you have more value and deserve to not have a dozen spider bites."

[Marian Hawke]

She looks down, putting another spoonful of porridge into her mouth and focusing on consuming it.

[Varric]

"Arm," Varric orders her, pointing at the table.

[Marian Hawke]

She stretches her arm out again, switching her spoon to the other hand so she can keep eating.

[Varric]

Varric shows himself to have a deft touch, swabbing each bite with a cotton-tipped stick dipped in some kind of ointment. "This'll numb the bites and disinfect them. I'll give you a vial of antitoxin after I'm done with this."

[Marian Hawke]

She nods, switching her spoon back so she can scoop up another bite. "Alright," she says, just before she pops it in her mouth. 

[Varric]

"When was the last time you ate?" he finally demands.

[Marian Hawke]

She swallows. "Don't remember."

[Varric]

Varric squints at her for a moment. "You have trouble remembering things a lot? What's your birthday? What's your name? How old are you?"

[Marian Hawke]

She rattles off her birthday, followed by her name: "Emma."

[Varric]

There's just the faintest hint of hesitation in her answers. Probably leaving off her last name on purpose (might not feel she can claim it, might be worried I track her back). "What were the last ten books you read?"