Ghost Story

[Marian Hawke]

"Did?" she asks, blinking. "Oh. Today isn't M'leen's day?"

[Varric]

"Nope. Three hours past dawn of the day after," Varric informs her. "Sore where? How so? Dull or sharp, burning or tight?"

[Marian Hawke]

"Dull, all over. Like I been running."

[Varric]

"Bone, muscle, everything?"

[Marian Hawke]

"Yeah. What happened? Am I sick?"

[Varric]

"I..." He hesitates for a moment. "I'm not sure," he finally says. "I asked earlier if you'd ever seen anything that suggested this place might be haunted..."

[Marian Hawke]

"No, nothing."

[Varric]

"Don't remember a thing from last night?" I knew she was out of it but...

[Marian Hawke]

She shakes her head. "The last I remember was you giving me some medicine. Then I was out like a light."

[Varric]

"Shame that," he says, voice as bland and mild as fat skimmed milk. "You missed a real neat adventure."

"House is haunted."

"Aggressively haunted."

[Marian Hawke]

"Oh," she says quietly, and for a moment she sounds a lot like Bethie. "Well. Shit. Sorry, I mean..."

[Varric]

"For what?" Varric asks, frowning slightly.

[Marian Hawke]

"Cussing...?"

[Varric]

"When?" A beat. "Oh, right, 'shite' is classified as a 'bad word' to idiots. Don't worry about it. Words are words, used to codify and transmit  feelings and ideas. Use whatever words you want, as long as you're willing to take responsibility for what you're communicating with them." He waves a hand, a slight grin forming. "Mind you, outsider languages are a smidge different, as their meaning and heft is enough to enforce understanding on not just listeners but the environs. A mild effect, mostly, but still one to keep in mind."

[Marian Hawke]

"In that case," she says with a smile. "Fuck."