Joker finally meets Hawke's "Imaginary" friend

Said Grumpy-Face's head perked up at the sound of that awfully familiar voice and his gaze zeroed in on Hawke's general direction. It's hard not to spot the giant (compared to Fenris's tiny, thin stature) and even harder to ignore that doofy grin on his face, so with a half-hearted eyeroll and a tiny smile of his own, Fenris ambles over and takes the only seat next to Hawke that isn't occupied.

He shoots a quick glance at the other man there (so many beards, Maker, why?) in quick assessment. As far as he can tell, there's no danger here, so Fenris settles in and waves for a glass to start the night.

"Finding a Hawke in the local bar. How surprising."

Joker looks up from his glass of alcohol when they're approached by someone pretty and floofy-headed, who apparently knows Hawke. More importantly, Hawke called him Fenris, the name that Joker had been associating with some kind of shared hallucination by the drunken asshole and Judge Dredd.

"Wait, you're Fenris?"

He's astonished. He's amazed. This pretty little asshole wearing a spiky tin can for armor is the guy who does the magical fisting thing?

"Holy shit, I thought you weren't real. I thought you were a fucking flying purple cat that Anders made up when he was high off of whatever glowy bullshit is hanging out in his head."

Joker. Joker, please. Please don't do this to Hawke. Joker, why would you do this to Hawke, Hawke is your friend, why would you tell Fenris you thought he was Anders' fever-dream? Why?

He's not nearly drunk enough for this.

"...Fenris, this is Joker. As you can see, he quite spectacularly lives up to his nickname."

Ha ha ha...haaa....fuck.

Edited 2015-02-15 06:52 (UTC)

"So I see."

Fenris uses his response to buy him some time to actually process what Joker said. On one hand, he called him 'a fucking flying purple cat' while simultaneously mentioning Anders, of all people. On the other, he called Anders out on his 'glowy bullshit' which earns nearly anyone points in his book.

No, the hypocrisy of that statement has not hit him just yet, and no, it probably never will unless it's blatantly pointed out to him.

"I can assure you I am quite real. Unless there is something I am not aware of."

"Yeah, good for you," Joker says, still kind of in that state of mild amazement that Fenris is a real boy and not a hallucination of an improbably colored feline.

He drains his glass because he really kind of needs the alcohol right now. It's like seeing a ghost or a chupacabra or Bigfoot walk into your bar like it's no big thing.

"So, Eeyore, do you drink or are you just going to stand around and look pretty?"

Sorry, Hawke, he's never not going to be an embarrassment.

It takes a lot to actually embarrass Hawke, but somehow Joker's managed it flawlessly, and in fewer than five sentences! He's just going to try to cover that by finishing his current drink, although unfortunately there really isn't enough left to adequately help him recover his composure. He's just going to leave it up to Fenris to answer Joker's question.

Does he drink?

Does he drink?

Oh, Joker. Sweetheart. Honey. You have no idea, do you?

That's exactly what the look on Fenris's face says as his eyebrows arching into neat peaks and his lips make some sort of indescribable twitch. It's kind of a cross between incredulousness and pure amusement. Thankfully, Joker caught him on a good day, and he's able to ignore the 'standing around looking pretty' bit.

He shoots that same Look over in Hawke's direction when he speaks.

"For once, my reputation does not precede me."

"I'm going to take that as a 'very yes'," he says, because what the hell else could you take that as? And it's not as though he's going to be shocked by Fenris' rampant alcoholism, because that's literally the entire Normandy crew. Welcome to Bioware, we're all alcoholics here.

He waves down the bartender so that the floofy-headed elf could get himself a bottle of something fancy to drink like the uncouth Tevinter ex-slave that he is.

"So, how'd you end up knowing a guy like Hawke?"

"I was the innocent and unsuspecting bait in his slaver trap." Far from sounding put out about this, Hawke's tone is mostly amused. The embarrassment has passed. The bartender, meanwhile, recognizes Fenris (he and Hawke are in here often enough, after all), and departs to acquire the requested something fancy.

"Or, well, I guess Marian was," he adds, glancing over at Fenris. "Same situation, different Hawkes. But it all worked out in the end."

"The Hawke I knew prior to arriving here is a woman," Fenris explains just a bit further, "I met Garrett upon my arrival, although we did not truly mesh until some time later."

He doesn't mention that they met while Fenris was punching his boyfriend's face in. Or that he and Marian are a Thing. Or that the 'not meshing' prior to their (re)kindled frendship consisted almost entirely of Fenris hating the man for no discernable reason other than 'mage' and 'doing it with another mage'.

Some things are meant to stay private, at least for a little while. But knowing Garrett, they'd eventually come out on the sooner side of things.

Before that can happen, though, the bartender arrives with a full bottle of wine, and knows full well to leave it without a glass. Fenris nods his head in thanks and downs a good mouthful before turning his attention back to conversation.

He's just going to take that as a 'very yes'. Thank you, Bioware, for making so many of your protagonists raging, unrepentant alcoholics.

But it's the mention of opposite-sex doubles that got him really interested.

"That shit happened to you, too?" Because this is apparently a thing, now. Once is an incidence, twice indicates a pattern. "The Shepard I knew was definitely a woman, but then I get here and there's this asshole hanging around saying that he's Shepard, and now I'm stuck with double the CO, double the fun."

Not that he didn't like both of the Shepards, but just one had been a handful. Two was kind of just overkill.

"And, like, half of us remembered Jane and half remembered Jim, except it wasn't always Jim? Sometimes it was John? And I don't even fucking know anymore."

"Yeah, I'd heard about that. About Jane and Jim, that is. I didn't realize Jim was sometimes John. Though I guess sometimes I specialize in swinging swords instead of fireballs, depending on who you ask." That had been a bizarre revelation - much weirder to him than meeting Marian had been, in fact. The pair of them, at least, had hit it off pretty much immediately. The two Shepards always seemed vaguely antagonistic toward one another, when he saw them together.

"That all sounds familiar, anyway."

"The last thing we need is any more Hawkes. The ship would not be able to handle any disaster that ensues."

Man, Fenris's tone sure was dry there. You know what'll help fix that? Downing a quarter bottle of wine like the flagrant alcoholic butterfly he's grown to be.

"As for the phenomenon happening elsewhere, this is the first I've heard of it."

That's another Look he's shooting over at Hawke, and all can bet that Marian will be hearing it from him when he finally manages to make it home. These are the things that they need to talk about!

"Yeah, any more of him show up and we'll have to start stockpiling the liquor somewhere safe so it doesn't end up down their collective gullets."

Not that Joker or literally anyone he knows has any room to talk, but he also didn't care. Sorry, Hawke, you're the focus of Joker's mockery today. It had to be somebody, and since Fenris is all spiky and glowy and Joker knows that glowy equals bad, it's going to be you.

"Did you ever hear about the time that he passed out in the Normandy bathroom?"

Hawke can glow just as glowy as his friends, Joker! So you'd better watch out!

...at least, Joker would have to watch out in some alternate universe where Hawke was an asshole rather than a sarcastic embarrassment to the human race. So. Lucky for Joker.

"You're asking as if that's any different from any other time I've passed out in a public toilet," he said as he caught the bartender's eye to request a refill. "Although I have to say, the Normandy's was definitely the cleanest place I've ever blacked out in."

"I shall assume that Normandy is the name of a bar. As such, I shall also assume the proper amount of offense that you have not invited me to go along with you," Fenris sipped (not chugged) from his wine to emphasize the pause between his words, "especially since the bathrooms sound positively divine."

Hawke's tendency to wind up in a magical myriad of places, their bathrooms, or the rafters thereof, no longer surprised him. Truth be told, seeing how similar Garrett and Marian proved to be, it never surprised him in the first place.

Thankfully, they were both amusing enough to justify being pains in the ass as well.

"Excuse you, the Normandy isn't a bar, she's a ship. And she's the best damn ship in the galaxy, thank you very much."

Don't knock his ship, Fenris. It has more than just the best bathrooms that Hawke ever had the privilege of passing out in, it also had giant guns and a crew full of assholes.

"So the toilets aren't public, you jerk. The only reason you were in them at all is because we threw a party and your sorry ass somehow managed to slip past the bouncers."

"Well, they're not exactly private, either. And don't try to pretend I wasn't on your guest list, because I definitely was. I still have the invite." Somewhere. It was digital, and stored on his Guide, and not in a place where he knew where it was, but it was definitely there! He was pretty sure, anyway.

To Fenris, he said: "I wanted to invite you, but Marian had already kidnapped you. There wasn't much I could do after that."

"There isn't much anyone can do after that," Fenris conceded with a smirk, "Keep us both in mind the next time there is a get together on this ship."

Before their wacky Thor adventures, Fenris's definition of a ship was limited to sails, wood, and pieces of metal. Now, apparently ships could be cities with their own economies and inhabitants. The bars weren't a surprise. Liquor and vessels seemed to have a symbiotic relationship that transcended time and space.

"As for preventing Hawke getting into your facilities, I regret to inform you that any attempts you make in deterring either of them are in vain."

"Yeah, well, he was an eyesore in our nice, clean bathroom. On the plus side, I got to meet tall, curvy, and pantsless, and she helped me win my money back."

That's what happened while you were passed out in the bathroom, Hawke. Isabella and Joker fleeced people out of their hard-earned cash at poker. No one at all should be surprised.

"So, how much does Hawke have to pay you to babysit his ass while he does stupid shit? Or, she, I guess. Y'know, I don't think I've met other-you, Hawke. Have you been hiding the hot one from me?"

"I am the hot one," he declared. "Though Marian is very pretty, I'll admit." That's all he would be admitting, though. "She's also spoken for. Before you go getting ideas." That was as far as he was going to elaborate on that; the rest he would leave either up to her or up to Fenris.

"Quite spoken for," Fenris downed another swig from the bottle, "As for who is more attractive than whom, I'll leave that up to the two of you to decide. I refuse to make any comments otherwise."

Because you're both very attractive, but the moment Fenris takes sides, it's going to wind up in either a mad girlfriend or a mad bestie and neither sounds all that appealing. Or healthy.

"You are so not the hot one," he said. "Especially not if she landed that guy."

Thumb jerk over at Fenris.

"Since I haven't seen her, I've gotta assume that Fenris is dating someone of equal hotness, and, sorry, Hawke, but he's hotter than you."

Hope you don't mind having your physical attractiveness rated on a scale of one to Fenris, Hawke. Or Fenris for being the scale that hotness is being measured by.

"That means she's hotter than you. Nothing I can do about it, man, it's just math."

No, it's not, Joker. No, it's not.

"That's not math, that's your opinion. Your cruel, hurtful opinion."

Despite his unhappy words, Hawke didn't actually seem too put out. There really was one person in the whole of the universe he might actually acknowledge to be hotter than himself, and that person was Marian. And maybe Fenris by association. All of his friends were very hot...a lucky accident on his part, but, there you were. So, this once - just this once - he wouldn't be making a fuss.

"At least you have good taste. I guess."

...Okay, maybe he was going to sulk a little. Just a little. Into the remainder of his beer....Damn, he needed another beer.

Don't worry Hawke, Fenris has your back. He'll wave down the bartender and gesture for another pint of beer. Actually, he'll make that three-- this particular conversation looks like its heading down a road that will require far more alcohol in their collective systems than currently available.

"As much as I suppose I appreciate the implication," Fenris lies as he clears his throat (he knows he's hot, okay?), "it would be best to allow Marian to speak for herself."

A beat.

"Granted, she would do so quite favorably, but that is neither here nor there."

"Y'know, you could get her here so she could plead her case and all."

Joker, you just want to see the hot one, don't lie. You just want all the hot Hawkes in one place, with a side order of hot ex-Tevinter slave thrown in there for good measure. He'd call them all eye candy, but that implies a lack of substance and there's plenty of substance hanging around.

"And then we could see for ourselves who wins the hotness competition. I mean, between you two Hawkes, anyway. It's pretty obvious who'd win in general."

But hey, more drinks. Sweet, he was starting to get low on shitty beer.

Joker finally meets Hawke's "Imaginary" friend

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