Who: Hawke and Charlie. Open to Isabela, Merrill. What: Dragon Age 2. No, really. Where: Hawke and Merrill's apartment. When: Afternoon, August 27. Rating: Ok for all. It might have FEELS later if they actually get the game working. Status: Incomplete.
Hawke had left the so-called game sitting on top of her television, where it had been mostly ever since she had purchased it, brought it home, and expected it to do something. Was there a summoning ritual she was supposed to use? Words of power to speak? Was a demon going to pop out of it and talk about her life? Or the life of the man-version of her?
It was fair, very fair, to say that Hawke still had a long way to go towards understanding the modern material culture of Earth.
She was, at least, enthusiastic about it, and had not resorted to snapping the shiny game medal in half and moving on with her life. No, instead, she was still regarding it curiously while waiting for Charlie to arrive, and idly tidying up around the apartment that she and Merrill shared. Or, at least, moving things from one place to another, then deciding that no, they probably didn't belong there, either. She'd gotten spoiled by years of living with overly helpful dwarves and an accidentally-acquired servant who was overly eager to please, she was realizing. "I'm the prissy noble my mother warned me about," she muttered, giving up on the kitchen and going to flop back down onto the couch. She checked her peeda (or however "PDA" was pronounced, people had given her funny looks for calling it that but nobody was suggesting a better alternative); it was easier than checking for the mail at home had been, at least, and always provided some form of entertainment.
She was idly scrolling through it, still, when she heard a noise at the door.