"If you'll excuse me," Marian huffs, stooping down to pick up the orange her companion dropped. Her tone might be light, but her gaze is sharp as she drags it from the fruit to Jaime. "I paid a king's ransom for these. If you're going to throw them around, at least make sure you hit someone obnoxious."

She tosses it back towards him. One-handed he might be, but she'd trust that one hand's abilities over two belonging to most of the warriors in this city. Which is why she doubts it was simple clumsiness that had the fruit dropping to the ground in the first place.

Varric, Andraste bless him, can read her better than any book he writes, and makes his own excuses as she saunters closer to Jaime. "What needs to be delivered?"