#devyn hawke

"This is hardly the place to-" his protest was for naught. His body moved not of his command when Hawke clutched his arm and pulled him towards the center of the room. 

"Just shut up and dance with me, Fenris. Please? It'll be fun!" 

Stumbling a step, he had no opportunity to object, and his legs carried him unbidden past the empty tables. Did she wish to dance? Here? In the middle of the filthy tavern with no music but the sounds of snoring from drunken fools passed out in the corners? 

But her arms were around his waist and her head laid against his chest without prompt as she swayed to a silent rhythm, perhaps a melody only she could hear. No one spared them a second glance, but it did not help the awkward position in which he had found himself. His arms remained directionless at his sides, hovering just inches from the feminine body clinging to him. If she minded that he wasn't moving in time along with her, it didn't appear to be noticeable.  

That is until she lifted her head and stared open-mouthed in confusion. He saw the question in her eyes before she spoke it aloud. 

"Fenris? Why aren't you moving?"

His mouth opened, but words did not flow, not right at first. He quickly searched for the appropriate answer, "I - don't dance?" It was at least rooted in truth. Such a skill wasn't something in which he proclaimed to be well versed. 

He did not expect to see such an impish smile unfurl on the rogue's face. She prodded him and he felt his brows knit together frustratingly while he attempted to carefully pry himself free of the woman. "Don't or can't?"

"I simply don't. It was not something Danarius ever thought to teach me, nor was it ever necessary for me to learn." Fenris realized his efforts were futile when he heard Hawke sigh just as her arms squeezed him tighter. 

Kaffas. 

He swallowed a sound that threatened to undo his entire cooly detached demeanor and relented. A quiet giggle pulled his eyes down to see her unfurl her arms and release him. Relief flooded his system, but what replaced it was a growing heat in his cheeks. Either she did not notice, or she mercifully chose to feign ignorance. 

"Well," she stood up straight and extended empty arms towards him in a wide arc. "It's never too late." 

Too late? It dawned upon him that she intended to teach him. Here? Now?  

"Hawke, we're in the middle of the tavern." His eyes darted across the room, as if subconsciously hoping to catch everyone staring at them, but still, no one paid them much mind. Most patrons had left, and Corff had long since stopped serving. Fenris watched the man as he made some minor effort to wipe down the bar while Norah and Edwina collected empty mugs and roused the snoozing layabouts.  

Although Hawke did not make a point to comment on his desperate search for any excuse, she did forcibly redirect his attention back to her, and he found himself momentarily lost in a sea of freckles.  

"Here, like this." She all but slurred while fighting against the rigidity of his form, trying to pose him like a clay figurine. He stood awkwardly yet allowed her to bend his arms to her will all the same. Warm hands slipped into his and Fenris became acutely aware of the satin of her skin against his bare palms. It occurred to him just then that in spite of her occupation, she looked after herself well. Or well enough at least. "Hold your frame straight-" When his body did not comply at first, it was the gentle touch of fingertips against the small of his back that made him jolt upright and stiffen. 

A smile was his reward, one that touched her eyes and pulled at the corners of her lips enough to reveal the row of neat, white teeth. His eyes flitted to her fingers - long, scarred and only lightly calloused - as they completed the space between his own, knitting their hands together carefully. Hawke draped her left arm over his shoulder, and before Fenris could register a complaint, she pressed in, closing the gap between them in a fluid step forward.  

Earthly scents filled his nose with her nearness. The smell of sweat and soil and wet dog fresh from the sea would not usually be welcome to his senses, but at the moment, they were strangely comforting. She had not given him much direction beyond the initial instructions, so it was with some hesitation that he reached out with his right arm, assuming it had no other place to go but around her waist. 

That seemed - correct?

"Good," was her quiet praise, a breathy coo in his ears that warmed them to the tips. "You're getting the hang of this."

He let natural silence fall after her compliments, and soon enough, they were moving. His steps were awkward at first, but he heard no complaints - only a quiet humming that soothed his raised hackles. It was a pleasant tune, and for a few moments, he simply listened to it. 

Fenris almost did not wish to interrupt, but he waited for a comfortable pause to speak up. "Where did you learn to dance?" 

"My mother taught me. She was a noble, after all. "

"I see." 

Again, words faded into obscurity while they took steps to a silent beat with Fenris finding his stride the more they moved. As an elf, he possessed a natural sort of grace, but it was not enough to compensate for her years of practice.

He met unexpected resistance when his instinctual desire to continue gliding unbalanced him. Fenris overcorrected, trying not to trip over his or Hawke's feet while he felt her slow down until they stopped. Hawke let go first, but the subtle flush to her face and the suggestion of interest in her eyes said enough. "Is everything alright?" He still asked, curiously.

Her head bobbed with reassurance, "Yes! Of course! It's just; it's getting late, I should probably get home."

Disappointment surfaced unexpectedly, but Fenris was careful not to show his hand, still plagued with uncertainty. "Of course." 

"Thank you, Fenris. I had a good time," came a sheepish response as she headed for the door.

An agonizing minute passed before he built up the courage to say something, effectively stopping her in her tracks. "Hawke?"

She cast a glance over her shoulder with the door to the tavern cracked, letting in cooler air from outside. "Yes?"

He cleared his throat, ignoring the pooling heat in his chest or the rapid thumping of his heartbeat. "I - would like to do this again." Her face lit up and did little to help his racing pulse, but he felt a grin tugging on the corners of his mouth.

"That would be nice. But-" Hawke held him in a moment of suspense, but relief came mercifully quick when she completed her thought. "Maybe not in the bar next time. Goodnight, Fenris."