On a tree close to the tavern rested a heart made out of parchment. A dagger with an intricately carved handle pinned the cut out to the lower end of the trunk. If one looked close enough, you could make out a scribbled 'MC + LH’.
Malika felt accomplished upon seeing her handy work in the morning. She glanced over at her dwarven companion who looked a mixture of amused and concerned.
“Dimples, did you ever consider a subtler way to tell Scout Harding how you feel?” Varric asked, tone dry and light.
She shrugged. “I prefer the direct approach.”
Out of nowhere a scoff reached their ears. Malika glanced over her shoulder and saw Cassandra hovering close by. Her eyes were narrowed, attention focused on the heart pinned to the tree.
Another scoff followed before Cassandra spoke. “Inquisitor, this is hardly romantic! A romantic notion must contain some air of subtlety.”
“Listen to her, Dimples,” Varric chuckled. “The Seeker is the Inquisition's resident romance expert, after all.”
Cassandra sighed. “Varric, your insight is neither appreciated or needed.”
“How you wound me, Seeker!”
Malika stopped listening to their argument when she noticed Harding spotted the heart. They locked eyes. A light dusting of pink painted Harding's cheeks along with a wide, tooth bearing grin.
She returned the smile.