[Locked to templartyrant]

[unasked_for]

[Fenris snaps awake rather suddenly. He's not sure what woke him up specifically, but there is a definite sense of wrongness to his surroundings - even beyond what he's been forced to accustom himself to in Mayfield. The bed is different, the atmosphere is different...his clothes are different.

He sits up, plucking at the suit he's wearing in bemused disgust. What is he wearing?

With so much that's out of place to take in, the presence of another person nearby takes a second to come up on the list of things that need addressing. But when he turns his head, his eyes widen. There's a woman, wearing an outfit revealing enough for even Isabela to approve of -

- and then he processes who it is, and Fenris is off the bed and at the other side of the room before his brain has even fully processed out the name 'Meredith'. It's not that he's afraid of her - though he knows perfectly well she must be more than capable of being dangerous. No, what he's afraid of is of her waking up dressed in that, in a bed that looks uncomfortably brothel-like, while he himself is close at hand. He can't imagine how this could have happened unless he was drugged - and, as he doesn't recall anything of the sort, he's assuming Mayfield is response - but he does know that the last thing he wants is to be held accountable for it by Meredith...or to seem to be taking advantage of it in any way.

He doubts even Hawke's influence could protect him if Meredith was made to truly wish him dead.]

Comments

[unasked-for.livejournal.com]

[Fenris is mildly surprised by Meredith's question - he'd expected her to be too focused on escape, too businesslike to be particularly concerned with her well-being. But, he reminds himself, she is a templar, charged with defending the city and its citizens. Fierce and cold as she might be, she is still invested in the welfare of the citizens of Kirkwall, even here. Even the former elven slaves, apparently.

It's a mark in her favor, and Fenris' esteem for her rises a bit higher. Now he finally risks lifting his eyes to hers - though he still keeps them well away from taking in any details of her current outfit.]

The door is locked. And I cannot penetrate it. [He glances back to it.] I could attempt to break it down, but knowing this place...I doubt it will work. [Yes, there's that familiar bitterness creeping into his voice.]

[templartyrant.livejournal.com]

Judging by my outfit, it is not difficult to imagine what they expect us to do to get out of this room. [She gives him a cool glance.] I do not think I should have to tell you this, but that is not going to happen, regardless of what they want.

[unasked-for.livejournal.com]

[Speak for yourself, Meredith. It's incredibly difficult for Fenris to imagine what Mayfield seems to expect them to do. The thought of it had never crossed his mind before today, and the possibility of it seems no less distant to him now.

He's certainly not entertaining the idea. Entirely beyond the disturbing, forced nature of these arrangements, he doesn't have a death wish.]

As you say, Knight-Commander...it hardly needed to be said. [His voice is even, more or less respectful...though there may be the slightest edge of bitterness to it. He continues to have mixed feelings about authority figures, even ones he largely agrees with, and the cold expectation of of his immediate obedience from Meredith is bringing back less than pleasant memories.

That, and her stating the obvious makes him wonder if she assumes he would take advantage for his own part, which is an insulting supposition. Why would he? Because he's a man? Because he's an elf? Because he's an idiot? He finds this situation no more appealing than she does.

In any case...it would seem that they're trapped for the duration of whatever this is. Scanning the room for something to keep him occupied, Fenris spots the mini-bar, and that decides him immediately. He makes his way over to it, looking through the wine selection - the Aggregio Danarius so thoughtfully left for him in the mansion has led to his developing a taste for the stuff.]

[templartyrant.livejournal.com]

[Meredith watches him move, both warily and with a small measure of interest. She'd rather have preferred not to be locked in a room with any of the Champion's companions, but this is a fair sight better than being trapped with one of the mages, or- heaven forbid -Orsino.]

At least they were kind enough to supply us with drink. I do not often indulge myself on such matters, but I suppose the Maker will forgive me in this... unorthodox situation.

[unasked-for.livejournal.com]

I expect he would at that. Certainly the situation calls for drink. [Fenris smirks a bit at this; getting drunk with the Knight-Commander is hardly how he expected to spend his evening, but that she seems to understand and approve actually makes it seem like she might not be too bad of a drinking companion.]

What would you have, then? [They've certainly got a wide enough selection...]