"Not drunk enough for this."
Once, after getting drunkwith Varric and Iron Bull at the tavern back in Skyhold, Seren had sworn tonever have another taste of both dwarven ale or maraas lok. Right now, if any of the two would have been available,she would have bought them without a second though. Hell, she would havecombined them, if only that would have given her the chance to get drunk quicker. Anything that would have gottenher there was good enough. The problem was, when you were used to drinking withpossibly the largest Qunari (well, actually Tal-Vashoth) warrior, you developeda most uncanny resistance to alcohol. Especially to the weak alcohol that humans made. Nothing, nothing could equal maraas lok (especially since Seren was fairly certain that the Qunari stillused some of that explosive powder of theirs for the drink, nothing else couldjustify the way it killed all thenerves in your throat on its way down).
The man next to her seemedto be of a mind – he’d been chugging down drink after drink, seeming positivelyset on knocking himself out, but it didn’t seem to be a very successfulendeavor for him either. The irony. Most human bars were a bore, and this onewas no exception – there was no offended customer willing to behead anotherright in front of the bar counter, no pirates to be seen, no wenches sellingtheir bodies, and, thank the Maker forthis one, no shouts of “Blood mage!” or “Maleficarum!” anywhere. What she had, instead, was a terribly drunklittle girl (how had anyone even let her in? She didn’t seem of age)essentially wagging her tale around the man, trying her very best to earn hisattention, and failing to realize how poorlythat was working for her.
“I’m not drunk enough for this.” He muttered underhis breath, and Seren choked on laughter. With a moment’s hesitation, shepulled her chair nearer to him, eyeing him, intently.
“Quite frankly, I don’t think one can ever be drunk enough forsomething like that. But come on, you have to appreciate the sheer effort she’sputting into it.”
