[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]

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...]