Apostates and Runaways
He had arrived to drink and brood. Because it was unhealthy to do s alone. Yet there he was in the Hanged man, far drunker then he meant to be. If one was smart they’d take him home. But no. The elf befriended people that liked to get information out of him. Things he wouldn’t normally say sober. He was giggling so he was already pretty far gone.
“You!” he chimed, standing up from Varric’s table much to the dwarf’s amusement, bumped into said table and landed back in his chair where the normally brooding elf just giggled like mad. “Has anyone ever told you that you have pretty eyes?”









