"No guards?" Varric asked, entirely nonplussed. "Why, Seeker, how forward of you--"

This was, perhaps, not an entirely solid idea, but Varric had been drinking for the better part of the day. He was already on precarious footing and this sort of thing? Probably not going to help with that. Still, with Cassandra looming over him, expression grim and furious as a wraith, how much worse could this really get?

Well, he could get stabbed, he supposed--it really depended on what she was angry about.

Varric pushed off and stood up, a short and stalwart figure in Cassandra's long, harrowing shadow, and casually motioned toward the front door.

"--I must say, I greatly approve, though it's a bit cold out for 'private conversation'."