She’d fought off an entire pack of them, alone, all while protecting him – and then she’d found shelter, carried him there, and spent the rest of the evening collecting firewood and elfroot in the rain.He was never going to be able to repay her.Which just made him even more uneasy. He’d been fascinated by the beautiful bard from the start – not only her sweet voice and pretty face, but also her certainty and faith, her self-assurance and optimism even in the face of her apparent intimate familiarity with torture. It wasn’t surprising that he would be attracted to her – but he should also know better.He was a Howe. The son of the worst monster Ferelden had seen since King Meghren. His family name and honour were destroyed, and any personal regard the few nobles on speaking terms with him gave him was due mostly to pity. The entire country hated him – the Amaranthine folks would despise him for not being his father, and the rest would scorn him for his blood-relation to the maniac. He. "That can't be me..." Chris muttered, before squeaking out. "That's notmy voice!" Oh, but it is, Christine!" Erika quickly pulled the cape away, showingChris the full extent of the changes.Chris reached up to his face with his newly manicured hand, staring atthe woman in the mirror, who was unmistakably feminine, but alsounmistakably Chris."Christine! No lounging on the job!" Erika grabbed Chris's other handand pulled him out of the chair.Stumbling in the unfamiliar heels as he stood up, Erika handed him anapron with a name tag attached to it, with the name "Christine" writtenon it."What are you waiting for? Put it on!" Erika shouted."But... my interview..." Chris found himself putting on the apron as ifhis body was on autopilot."No need for an interview, I think you're a perfect fit for the salon,"Erika smirked. "In fact, I can take both those signs out of the windownow."Erika crossed the room and pulled the "Help Wanted" and "No Walk-Ins"sign out of the window, placing them down.
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