In the whole rag tag group that Cayle had collected, it was no secret that the sharpest tongue belonged to Morrigan. The "apostate witch" had the most enchanting eyes that Cayle had seen but her attitude tried the patience of even the Warden, much less those around him, except, of course for the irrepressible assassin who was at this moment, sidling up to Morrigan with a dazzling smile.

"Has anyone told you what marvelous eyes you possess, my dear?"

Morrigan rolled her eyes at Zevran, quite used to the Antivan Crow lavishing praise and flirting with everyone that had a pulse.

"Again with the flattery? Do you not tire from these pointless exercises?

"In Antiva, women are accustomed to being showered with the praise they deserve. Men should worship you at your feet as you pass."

"They don't find that incredibly annoying?" Morrigan replied, dryly.

"They are goddesses receiving their subjects, just as you should be. Whatever would be annoying about that?"

"I have no wish to be placed upon a pedestal."

"But you deserve no less. You should be admired by painters, copied by sculptors, exalted by poets! Surely you know that yours is a beauty so exotic it-it would turn the eye of the Maker Himself!"

Cayle's brow flew upwards in puzzlement, wondering what was on the Antivan Crow's mind with such gross exaggerations. Fortunately, he had taken the lead point that day and his back was all the others' saw as he kept walking on, scanning the area beyond with a critical eye.

His incredulity rose even further when Morrigan answered in a hesitant yet pleased voice, a hint of preening in her tone. "Well, I suppose I..."

He was about to turn around to ask Morrigan how she could believe in the drivel Zevran spouted when voices chimed into the conversation.

"By the Maker! You were right! You win." The clinking of armor and coins heralded Alistair's amazed proclamation, soon to be followed by Leliana.

"You are a master indeed, Zevran. You win the bet fair and square."

Cayle sighed as the clinking of coins and good-natured laughter followed.

"And how about you, my fine dwarven friend?"

"Hmph. Fine. So I owe you a flagon. Bastard."

"Much obliged, madam and sers!"

Cayle turned around just in time to see Morrigan's thunderous face as she turned on her heels and left the group, chin held high as she muttered. "I hate you all."

The long drawn out breath that Cayle took was very audible even in the chattering that still went on, as was the crackle of lightning that preceded a lesson hopefully learned.

Note: Those who have put Morrigan, Zev and either Alistair/Oghren/Leliana into the same party would know the dialogue very well. :) I'll be writing more Zev/Warden pieces in the next few chapters but it might take a long while since RL is a bit busy.

C&Cs are encouraged and loved 3