let's get gay married!

"Right," said Garrett, and his merry gang of miscreants turned as one to look at their fearless leader, breaths inhaled expectantly. On the run for four days already, it was beginning to become obvious even to Merril that a new plan for survival was necessary. "Right," he said again and some of his merry gang of miscreants exhaled sighs, "Anders, let's get married."

The collective stares turned toward Anders, who stopped shoveling stew into his mouth and gawked back. In the few moments it took him to not choke to death and swallow half-chewed dinner, his mind came up with the ingenious response of, "What?"

"And that allows us to escape the army from Starkhaven how exactly?" Aveline rolled up the map of the Free Marches and tucked it into her armor. "But, well, I suppose congratulations are in order."

"What?" said Anders.

Varric pounded the Warden on the back. "Make an honest man out of him, Anders. If that's possible. Not sure where you'll find a Chantry willing to let you in the door, let along hitch you, but we can worry about that later."

"What?" said Anders.

"Ooh, think about how handsome you'll be in marriage robes." Merril squeaked happily. "And clean! I've always though that you look much better when you're not covered in mud."

Anders pondered that observation and nodded in serious agreement, adding to the conversation his own ideas on the subject, "What?"

"I thought you were supposed to be the smart one," Isabela said as she and Varric hauled the mage to his feet. "Oh, don't give me your wounded-kitten face. Just kiss him already and we can get a move on."