Hawke had come to regret a great many things since her arrival in Kirkwall. Bringing home Lady Whiskers as a gift for Anders, however, had recently become her biggest.

"If my hound can't share the bed with us, then neither can she," Hawke said one morning when she woke to find the tiny furball curled up - quite comfortably - beside her head.

"But she takes up barely any room! And look at how soft she is. Not as coarse as your dog."

"She sheds."

"Only a little."

Hawke grunted something under her breath and tried to fall back asleep. It was rather difficult with Anders' gentle cooing.

"I think you're jealous of Lady Whiskers," he proposed one evening. They were seated together in front of the fire, with Hawke's faithful mabari hound on her side and Lady Whiskers languishing in Anders' soft praises on the other. Several weeks ago, he would've been afraid that the great hound would rip his tiny kitten to shreds, but, in the end, even the dog been charmed by her wiles. It was disgraceful, really. Hawke had always thought that a mabari war hound - of all animals! - should be vicious and tough. Not so...gentle to such a small creature.

Hawke stifled a dry chuckle. "Oh, yes, I'm terribly jealous of a little white kitten."

"You get so...stuffy when she's around."

She's always around, Hawke almost said out loud, but kept to herself.

Instead she leaned closer to Anders, pressed her lips against his scruffy jaw. "She can't command and keep your attention as easily as I can, though."

"Mmm," he hummed softly. "This is very true."

Hawke kissed him again, trailed a line down his cheek and to his lips. She wrapped an arm around his neck to draw him closer, and then-

Lady Whiskers mewled and jumped on her lap.

"Aww, she likes you!" Anders said, reaching down to pick her up.

Hawke huffed. A perfect moment, ruined.

By a kitten.