Solas looked at his cards silently.
"Well?" Varric grinned as wide as anything, putting his hand on the table facedown. He was the last one in, and Bull, Trevelyan, Dorian, and a blank looking Cole had already folded with various groans of defeat and indignant muttering.
Surprisingly, Cole had almost won with a double, until he'd gotten distracted and showed his hand to Bull to ask what it meant. Then he'd sighed, putting them down on the table with his chin following to rest on top of them, blinking owlishly at the pot. There were some of his very favorite bits of trash in there, which no one had the heart to tell him didn't count as 'stake raising'.
"What do you say? Deal? No deal? You're all out of money, and I'm raising the stakes Chuckles. See this?" One thick finger slowly slid forward, three gold sovereigns glittering underneath them, and Sera makes a small impressed sucking noise through her teeth. "The stakes. Raising."
"You seem fairly sure of your hand my friend." Solas considers, looking around the table. He's stalling for time to consider, and he knows it. Varric knows it. From the way Sera is draped across one large gray shoulder and whispering very quickly into Bull's ear, the others know it as well.
The game had grown heated far too quickly for his liking, but he supposed that was the risk you ran when such strong personalities all came together. He himself was no exception- He perhaps could have refrained from goading the dwarf on quite so deliberately.
"What do you suggest? I'm happy take your gold my friend, but I'm afraid I've nothing left for you to win in the off chance," He smiles faintly. "The very off chance you win.
"Oooh ho ho. I'm sure I can think of something." Varric's smile if anything, grows wider. "It's a time honored Free Marcher's tradition, after all. A favor or task will do just fine. One equivalent to the amount of effort say, three sovereigns might get me?"
"Free marchers tradition my arse." Solas hears Sera whisper, as her and Bull snicker together. Trevelyan seems fairly amused at the whole thing, hair disheveled from his few drinks and purse still comfortably full. He's such a nice, well meaning human. Large and guiless.
Solas is sure Bull went easy on him out of pity in round four; The only reason the qunari hasn't been able to get the warrior naked at the poker table is his guilt at the large, confused expressions the Inquisitor has been known to turn to him or Sera at pranks; Like a mabari that got swatted on the nose. "Makes me feel like he looks." Bull has been known to say, gesturing at an indignant Dorian. "Dastardly."
"I'll take your bet." Solas finally says, to a certain amount of approval around the table. Perhaps the flip side of so many strong personalities, is everyone can respect courage and daring in the face of uncertain odds. Although, perhaps Solas is simply looking too much into things such as companions enjoying a few rounds of cards.
A few tense, competitive, and often violently ending rounds of cards.
Solas lays out his hand, a pleased twitch of his ears and at the corner of his mouth the only indication of smugness. Three Kings, and two dukes. A full court.
Bull makes a low noise that's impressed, while Sera scoffs and drums her heels against Bull's side from her perch on the railing, practically on the qunaris shoulder. Like a large foul mouthed parrot. "Bollocks! Cmon, clean the sod out Varric. I wanna see baldy do a hand stand." She cackles, showing slightly crooked but very white and sharp teeth. Solas refrains from rolling his eyes.
"Unlikely. On both accounts." He doesn't do anything so tacky as raking in his winnings. A good thing too, as Varric's smile fades to one of satisfaction, hand going to his chest as if he feels the blessings of the Maker being bestowed upon him. Considering how often Solas and Varric found themselves to be the last ones in the game, down to the last coin, it wasn't without consideration. Solas was generally the victor, since as Bull put it, he was about as easy to read as upside down chantry verses in the dark. He feels a faint flutter of uncertainty.
There's a moment of silence while Varric makes a show of arranging his cards, scratching the scruff on his chin, and observing the pot, before Sera finally kicks him in the elbow and he gives in good naturedly to lay his cards on the table.
Solas heart sinks.
Smiling serenely up at them from amongst the gold pieces and small broken pieces of chainlink and feathers that were Cole's contribution, was a ten, a duke, a king, a queen, and the Divine with her radiant inked halo.
The table erupted into uncouth hooting and hollering and Solas simply shut his eyes, so he wouldn't have to look at Varric's smugly grinning face as he raked in his winnings and winked at him.