Turner was getting on in years. Only middle aged for most people, but the lyrium had taken it's toll. He had aches and pains and was getting a little forgetful, hobbling now with a cane after injuries received escaping Haven. Cullen leaned back in his chair and smiled at him. He'd followed Cullen from Kirkwall to serve the Inquisition. He wasn't a believer, he didn't even seem to be all that religious, but there he was, commanding the only group of mixed mages and templars that Cullen had managed to scrape together.

He settled into a chair with a soft groan and settled his hands on top of his cane before he grinned at the Commander, "Bit of a ruckus, in the yard, last night, sir."

Cullen arched a brow. He was far past taking minor reports, and Turner was far past giving them, "Oh?"

The grin stayed firmly in place, "Oh, aye, sir. The qunari, Iron Bull? He had a lassie up on his shoulders, was runnin around the yard, the whole lot of them Chargers chasin after them, tryin ta pull the lassie down." Still grinning, overly pleased with himself, "Think they'd all been drinkin."

"Nothing wrong with blowing off a bit of steam," the commander shrugged his shoulders, "Sounds like just a bit of fun."

"Oh, aye, sir, was fun at that. But then the 'Quisitor, he comes out of the bar, and that Krem laddie, he climbs up on top of tha 'Quisitor's shoulders, and then him and the Bull, they're howlin and beatin their chests, and the lassie and Krem, they be making just as much fuss. Yellin to beat all. And that's when Miss Josie, she comes runnin out the keep, wavin her arms, talkin 'bout Orlesian Nobles visitin and maintainin decorum."

Cullen narrowed his eyes, leaning forward over the desk, a strong sense of deja vu coming over him. He could almost see Frank, standing by the door, or Chissik sitting next to him, but Chissik was out on a patrol hunting Vanatori spies, and Frank was still in Kirkwall, "And?"

"Oh, then the two Qunari, they charged at each other, right there in the yard, and some of the refuges, they panicked, and knocked over some tents, and let the chickens out." He paused for a moment, "Chickens be surprisin'ly mean, sir." He nodded at that, as if imparting a great deal of wisdom, "Was a pretty good fight, what with Bull being a bit bigger than the 'Quisitor, but that Krem laddie, he's all muscle, and lassie was just a mage…"

Cullen stood up slowly, "A mage?"

"Oh, aye, sir. Wasn't castin no spells, or nothin, but a mage, all the same. But then Krem, see, he gets hold of lassie's hair, and one of Bull's horns got all tangled with one of the 'Quistors, and the whole lot of them went over, right into an old fire pit. Was ash flyin everywhere…"

He trailed off, still grinning at Cullen, who was standing in shocked silence, his hands gripping his tunic. He didn't say anything so Turner continued without his input, "You be wonderin why Miss Cassandra not be puttin an end ta all that, and she she did show up, but soon as she figured out what was goin on, well she let out this yell… Well, I just never heard nothin like it. She goes tearin off after that dwarf she was keepin prisoner…"

Cullen bent suddenly, digging through the bottom drawer of his desk until he found a small velvet bag with a drawstring to keep it closed. He tore it open and dumped a brilliantly glowing red vial onto the desk top. He stared for a long moment before a matching grin spread across his features, "Trouble's moved to town, Turner."

"Oh, aye, sir," the older man agreed, giving a satisfied sigh, "Been too long."

End