Thanks for the reviews, especially AlleluiaElizabeth who found multiple errors I missed.

The championing party returned splattered in dried blood and guts. With a few discrete words from the Inquisitor the party disbanded to freshen up. Apparently their trip to The Hinterlands succeed in the disposal of a few smaller dragons. Yet, Cassandra deemed the adventure rather pointless, the Inquisitor still held off on the removal of the high dragon. But she kept her mouth shut, not wanting to be subject to a long-winded explanation of group dynamics and practice. To Cassandra's confusion, the Inquisitor almost never brought her along when they went on dragon disposal expeditions. Though Cassandra never complained for Pentaghast dragon hunting lived and died with Anthony.

Dorian casually strolled by, he had changed into his white robes. He popped the white collar smoothing out any unevenness. The man then ran a hand through his wet hair attempting to pull into the proper place.

"Care to join us for a drink?" He offered. She respectfully declined claiming training exercises. "Do you ever stop training, you train even when you're on leave."

"I am sworn to perform my duties to the be-"

"Yes, yes Seeker stuff boring." Dorian started counting off on his fingers, "more boring, more boring. Oh what am I forgetting," he tapped his chin in fake thought "Oh yes, more boring. Get a drink, relax."

"Didn't you know Sparkler, Seeker's aren't allowed to partake in fun. Conflicts with their code."

The men let out a torrent of chuckles while Cassandra stood by rather infuriated. How many times had her training prevented Varric's chest hair from being singed or Dorian's head from leaving his shoulders.

"I shall remind you of this, the next time you're being chased by a pack of Hurlocs." She retorted, picking up her sword swinging it at the nearest dummy. After a few good solid attacks the boys left heading in the direction of the bar.

For the next Cassandra released her frustration on multiple targets. When it finally came to the end of her rather rigorous fighting session, her muscles ached and burned. A half-a-dozen targets lay broken on the ground. In addition, her hand protested any time she moved her fingers, they had been rubbed raw by the uneven leather. With her body drenched in sweat, she departed for the showers. Within twenty minutes she showered, found Anthony's book, and made it to the second floor of the bar unnoticed.

Cassandra occupied a rather dark but open corner giving her a perfect view of the bar. From her position she watched bar patrons leave, enter, drink, and even cheat at Wicked's Grace. However her field of vision returned consistently to one dwarf and his interactions with the other members of the Inquisition.

Most of them close friends of the Inquisitor. Ruffles, Chuckles, Sparkler, she struggled to recall the rest of the nicknames he so readily handed out. A roar of laughter echoed up from below, Iron Bull and Krem now leaned on each other for support, apparently they couldn't stop laughing. A few moments later Iron Bull finally lost his balance and ended up breaking a stool on his way down. The wood let out a loud crack and then shattered, brown splinters flying everywhere. With no one claiming injuring everyone, once again, fell into laughter. Most patrons gasping for breath. Even Cullen managed a few chuckles before being called away by a guard. Cassandra remembered, Cullen was 'curly'.

A few moments later the rest of the entourage slipped out much to the relief of the bartender, whom sent a hired girl to clean up the mess. The girl looked familiar. She squinted recognizing the short brown curls and sharp jawline, this human girl followed Harding around. The girl called it Preemptive Scout Training. Cassandra fondly recalled the shock on Leliana's face when the girl snuck up into the tower, the encounter ended up humorous but also terrifying. In the end it landed Harding with a small but intelligent shadow. A good war asset. She shook her head since when did children become 'good war assets'.

Cassandra returned from her saddening realization to stir her tea. Her eyes refocusing on the words. The book's pages were no longer crisp, even in some places blood stained the pages. Dragon Counters a book purely dedicated to dragon hunting techniques. She barely made it two sentences in before a specific dwarf sat across from her. His elfroot scented aftershave gave him away every time. She closed the book and slid it off the table resting it carefully between her thighs. The book not smutty or romantic in any nature yet his witty comments on her literary choices left her skittish. If he noticed he decided not to comment.

"Seeker." He acknowledged her, taking a sip of his drink.

"Why don't I have a nickname?" The question surprised her, it hadn't even been in the forefront of her mind. Dragons, combat, training, all of those lingered in her frontal lobe, not nicknames. Internally she chastised herself, this was not the time for mundane questions. He laughed lightly warming his hands on the mug of cider.

"I'm not laughing at you, Seeker. Another friend of mine inquired about the exact same thing, a lifetime ago." His volume trailed off to a whisper by the end. Uncomfortable memories apparently surfaced. A look of longing briefly settled on his features. Cassandra felt a trace of guilt knowing she was the cause, but her mission required him to lose everything. Simply a harsh truth they both had to swallow. Internally she admired his loyalty to Kirkwall, it rivaled her loyalty to Justinia. Slowly she sipped her tea, the sweet cinnamon scent swirling around her.

"The question need not be answered." She assuaged with a slight wave of her hand, rather content to keep Varric in good-spirits. He shrugged.

"Seeker."

"Hmm?" Cassandra quirked an eyebrow at him. He shook his head.

"Seeker is your nickname."

"But it is my title." She replied, "Ruffles, Iron Lady, Sparkler those are nicknames. They describe personalities or attributes. Mine is.." She fumbled for the words, biting her lip slightly.

"Less extravagant? Dull? Mundane? Perhaps eve-" Cassandra rolled her eyes deciding to tune him out instead of interrupting him. Her eyes wandered about the bar, she caught Cole sneaking oranges onto the window sill again. He looked up at her and smiled, his large hat covering his messy hair. The Seeker became well aware of her soft spot for him, especially after he fought a rat for the locket. Perhaps he also felt the change within her for Cole rarely hid from her anymore. Varric at some point started knocking the table aware that Cassandra had stopped listening to him.

"For someone that interrogated me for weeks,"

"Days." She corrected.

"Weeks without end," he forged on ignoring her "I thought you'd care about my insights. I mean for all you know, I found the Gray Warden."

"Did you?" The inquiry serious in nature.

"What!" His exclamation drawing brief attention from nearby customers "Why Seeker, I'm flattered to think you praise my skills so highly."

"No" she stated "but you have lied before Varric. I would not put it past you to withhold information." They lulled into a strained silence. Neither sure how to avoid the topic. Finally Varric spoke.

"Does it truly bother you?" The sincerity in his voice started Cassandra.

"Does what bother me? Your inability to supply information. Yes, very much so."

Varric shook his head, moving his fingers across the rim of the mug.

"No, the lack of a 'proper' nickname." He clarified.

She struggled to maintain control over the blush threatening to engulf her. They had returned to her inadvertent question. One she would have preferred to leave unanswered. Thankfully, Cole caused a bit of commotion down below distracting Varric; Cassandra knew she'd owe the boy for that.

"No." She deadpanned. A half-truth, the lack of a nickname didn't bother but the possible reason why, definitely. In recent months their relations had turned cordial. Varric still enjoyed prodding her but he retained a relative lack of animosity. The assumption she'd be getting a nickname came from the fact that Varric doled them out to people who were in good graces with the dwarf.

"Mhm. Let's see torturer, kidnapper, slaver?" He teased, his tone playful. For a few moments it bordered flirting. Cassandra briefly wondered if he realized how his tone could interpreted by people passing by. She laughed at the thought of course he did, he manipulated her all the time.

This could become problematic, Seekers needed to be above petty relations and rumors. Yet, Cassandra wanted to improve their rocky friendship. The dilemma she faced felt familiar, Swords and Shields perhaps, or one of the other smutty romances she had read. Ultimately it was duel between the duty of a soldier and the wants of the person. She tore away from the thoughts, smutty drama did not occur to her, in literature fine but not in the waking world. She needed to escape whatever this was. With a polite throat clear and a simple white lie of needing to be in a meeting, the Seeker began to leave. Varric touched her shoulder causing Cassandra to turn around. He promptly handed Dragon Counters, without a single comment. He called out to her while she descended the stairs.

"I'll work on it Seeker."