Horns

The Inquisitor was very drunk. Drunker, in fact, than Varric had ever seen her. From his vantage point at the back of the tavern, he could see her swaying gently, one head above everyone except Bull, exchanging laughs and pats on the back.

He was startled to suddenly see her face next to his, stray hair catching on her horns, eyes unfocused. "Let's fight something," she slurred, swinging her drinking horn.

"We already did, Spikey. That's why we're celebrating."

She huffed. "Need more. Gotta... stop brain. Thinking," she added.

There were other ways, Varric pondered. Something to consider, another night.