Fenris/Isabela, UST Expert

"You are an expert at unresolved sexual tension, you know that?"

He can smell the whiskey on her breath, and he frowns. "I hope you have a point, Isabela?"

She grins. "Nope, not a one." she hiccups, and it occurs to him that perhaps she's reached her limit, that she's had just a little bit too much to drink. "Just that it doesn't have to be unresolved forever, you know."

Fenris glows. "Ah. But if I gave in to you, I would no longer be an expert now, would I?"

But she isn't listening. Instead, she grabs his and kisses him, and for the next minute and a half he doesn't brood, doesn't think about Denarius or magic or Hawke or anything like that.

It's...nice, actually. She's a good kisser, even when she is drunk off her ass and her kisses taste like whiskey and rum. It disturbs him that his next thought is a wonder at what she tastes like when she isn't drinking.

She pulls away from him, giggling. "You're too good. You should be bad, like me! Then you wouldn't brood all the time."

She gets off his lap, waltzing to her room in the Hanged Man, and he catches himself considering it.