Bianca's Bodice Rippers

Hung for plot at the Hanged Man

• Varric: But if you tell anyone I said that, I'll deny it.
• Isabela: It's our secret, sweet thing.
• Varric: My eyes are up here, Rivaini.
• Isabela: *sighs* Oh Varric. It's just so hard to find a good man these days. ...And good to find a hard man, for that matter.
• Isabela: Speaking of which - how's that series of yours coming? So to speak. Hard in Hightown, wasn't it? I haven't seen an installment for a while.
• Varric: Well, you know how it is. Getting dragged along on Hawke's escapades back and forth across Kirkwall a few dozen times a week is really cutting into my personal time. Even Bianca's starting to get jealous.
• Isabela: ...You've hit a writer's block, haven't you?
• Varric: Rivaini, you wound me. I've never had writer's block in my life.
• Isabela: It's all right to admit it, Varric. We all hit a dry spot now and again. Run aground. Get stranded on a desert island with nothing but our imagination and our own two hands -- not even any stinking seamen in sight. Not that they'd be any better. Not unless you were really desperate. ...What were we talking about? Oh right. Your writer's block. I could tell you more of my stories, but really, a lady has to keep some mystery in her life.
• Varric: Let's just say I did hit a 'dry spot'. I'm not saying I have, mind you. Purely hypothetically, of course.
• Isabela: Of course. And I hypothetically had a foursome with the Hero of Ferelden.
• Varric: All right, all right. You win, Rivaini. I'll admit it -- but you'd better be ready to cough up _that_ story when we're done, here.
• Isabela: Please, darling. A lady always swallows. But this is about you, not me. Well, it's about me too, because I've been waiting forever to read the next chapter, and you just can't leave me swinging in the breeze like that. So how are we going to fix it?
• Varric: _That's_ the question I was hoping _you_ had an answer to with all the prodding and poking you were doing. Otherwise, I'll be swinging in that breeze right along with you.
• Isabela: Oh that will never do. Dwarves just don't...swing...that well. Or so I've heard! I've never tried it. Although Hawke said his house dwarf has been swinging from the chandelier lately. At least, I think that's what he said. I was rather busy carving a picture of Anders's dick into his banister. I had to do it from memory, so it took a bit of concentration. But right. Your little problem. Maybe it's just that you're fresh out of ideas! I bet some of the patrons in here have good stories -- or at least terrible stories that they can lie about being good after they've had a bit to drink. Why don't we ask them?
• Varric: I'll remember to look for your little... contribution the next time I see Hawke. Anyway. It's hard to imagine me being out of ideas, considering the company I keep, but maybe I just need a new perspective on things. Or maybe a little palate cleanser. Something 'new' to perk things up. Couldn't hurt. Even Bianca approves.
• Isabela: Well at least they might be able to tell you what they'd like to see next. Why don't we just set up a little box in the corner, and people can write down their ideas and leave them for you there. That way you won't get caught listening to someone tell you all about his grandma's bunions. Unless you're into that kind of thing - I don't judge. But it doesn't seem to fit with the rest of your material.
• Varric: Yeah... no. I'm a storyteller, not a magician. There are limits to what even _I_ can do. But I like the way you think, Rivaini. People are more likely to share the really _good_ stuff if it's anonymous. And we don't have to hear about anyone's bunions.
• Isabela: Then it's settled. We'll set up a box and wait for inspiration. Next round's on me!