Said Hawke in dismay. But the dwarf could scarcely resist.
It all started in a bar. It wasn't just any bar, but a very special bar. The floor was made of dirt and had a thousand thousand fluids and other stories of it's own to tell.
Elf walked in, his muscles bulging, the glow of tattoo'd patterns on his skin giving illumination to the dank wood of the walls. Hawke found herself staring, her mouth drying out. A warmth spread in her gut.