Family

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"I tell you, it was a right scandal." The ever-present rolling pin flew over the dough as Mistress Blodgett chattered happily away.

Perched on a stool near the counter, Fenris attempted to follow the conversation, but she was going on at such a rate it was hard to tell what she was saying. When she paused for breath, he put in, "I have wondered why you do not move out of Lowtown."

The rolling pin froze, Mistress Blodgett staring at him from under her mop of curls. "What do you mean?"

"Your shop is so prosperous, you could have a fine establishment in Hightown, draw in a new clientele."

She shook her head decisively. "No, this suits me just fine." But he'd seen a hint of fear cross her face, and he wondered about it. What could she be afraid of, in moving?

"Serah Drury's barbering establishment appears to be doing well, also. Perhaps both businesses could change locations."

"Nice of you to think of us." The tone made it clear the conversation was closed.

Fenris finished his meal, wiping his fingers on a napkin. "Thank you for breakfast, Mistress."

"Anytime, my dear." She looked at him fondly. "Nice to see you so happy; Serah Hawke's been good for you."

"Er, thank you." He ducked his head, uncomfortable discussing his private life—uncomfortable, in point of fact, with the idea of acknowledging his happiness. That seemed dangerous, somehow, as though to admit it would be to dare the fates, if such things existed, to take it away from him.

"You've been very special to me, duckie. If anything should ever ..." She fumbled audibly for the word. "... happen, I want you to know that."

"What could happen?"

"Oh, you know." She waved her hand in the air, looking as though she wished she hadn't brought it up. "Hit by a cart in the street, choke on a piece of carrot ..."

"I see." He didn't think that was what she had meant. "I ... feel the same." His cheeks heated up at the admission. "You have been most kind."

"From you, duckie, that's as good as a hug." She beamed at him before returning to her pie crust. Fenris ducked quickly out of the shop, nearly running over a man passing by. He recognized the man as a Hanged Man regular. His usually neatly trimmed side whiskers looked a bit overgrown today, Fenris noticed, glad once more that elves didn't need to shave. They exchanged polite nods before the man turned, heading up the wooden stairs on the outside of the building to Serah Drury's barber shop.

"There you are!"

He turned at the familiar voice, fighting the smile that her presence always seemed to tease out of him these days. "Was I that difficult to find?"

"No, my love, you're quite predictable. If I hadn't found you here, I'd have looked for you at my house." She smiled sunnily at him, and he willed himself not to blush at the casual endearment, avoiding the avid eyes of the dwarf. Varric's affection for Hawke had thus far kept any suspiciously named elven and human characters from appearing in those dreadful broadsheets he wrote, unlike Donnic and Aveline, whose identities would have been apparent to any small child whose parents were lax enough to let them see that sort of smut, but Fenris saw no point in giving the dwarf any extra ammunition.

"It's good she found you now; I was hoping to do something more exciting than take an extended tour of Kirkwall while hunting you down, my friend," Sebastian said.

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