Work Text:
"Parrot".
"You don’t own a parrot."
"If they audit us I’ll buy one. Stick it in. Two r’s, remember."
Fenris sighed and painstakingly wrote “Parrot” in the provided space, using large, round letters.
"Were you stationed remotely or overseas during any time of 35 Dragon?"
"Of course I was! Technically, I’m always overseas. Tick yes."
"Isabela, I think they mean in the army of the Free Marches."
"Then they should have said so. Tick!"
Tick. “Work related travel expenses.”
"Ohhhh… let’s say a hundred sovereigns."
Fenris snapped his head up. “Hawke pays for all of our travel expenses, and that wouldn’t total more than fifty sovereigns. Are you trying to get hanged?”
Isabela rolled her eyes. “FINE. Fifty sovereigns then.” Fenris shook his head and wrote 50 SOV. in the column.
"Gifts or donations." Fenris looked at her, fully expecting an equally outrageous amount, but instead she flinched. "I … don’t think anyone needs to know about that."
He stared at her. “Isabela, this is free, untraceable money. Unlike the fifty sovereigns worth of ‘travel’ expenses, which I can only assume is your drinking budget.”
"Hey! I need appropriate traveling clothes. These boots aren’t just for making elves drool over me, you know."
"Really," muttered Fenris, writing 10 SOV. in the column. It seemed reasonable, and Isabela didn’t argue with him. "Cost of managing tax affairs."
"Well, I bought you this," she said, waving a very good bottle of red which had been mostly consumed by Isabela herself. "How very generous of you. Costs?"
"Oh, at least 5 sovereigns." 5 SOV, in those big round letters.
A knock came at the door. “Can it wait? We’re naked in here,” yelled Isabela.
"In the name of Viscount Marlowe Dumar, we have arrived to collect your tax declaration. Upon the successful processing of your declaration, the guard will be dispatched to collect your assessed contribution. We must insist on collecting your declaration now, regardless of errors or omissions."
Isabela looked at Fenris, then nodded at the door.
"I don’t need the Viscount’s office knowing that I exist, Isabela," hissed Fenris.
"I’ll tell them you’re a blow-in. You were the one who didn’t want to be claimed as a dependent."
He glared at her, but got up and took the few steps to the door.
The two representatives of the Viscount’s office, a man and a woman, had seen a lot in their meanderings. Because they collected the declarations, not the money, they did not suffer from the abuse heaped upon the guards, but as visitors to almost every level of Kirkwall society, they were disinclined to be surprised by the seething mass of humanity and elfhood encountered on their rounds.
They were not, however, expecting a very tall and completely naked elf, covered from head to foot in tattoos (including… oh my, thought the male collector, gasping in sympathy), brandishing a fistful of tax returns.
"Here," said Fenris, shoving the papers at them. "I believe everything is in order. As you can see, I am otherwise occupied."
"Wait!" said the man, stopping the door from being slammed in his face. "We need to confirm… in case…"
Catching on, the woman said “…that you’ve filled in the forms correctly. I’m sure you don’t want to see us again.”
"Not until next year, haha!"
Fenris crossed his arms. “Are you questioning my ability to answer simple financial questions?” Behind him, Isabela was wheezing into her pillow.
The man drew himself up to his full height, that is, shoulder-height to Fenris. “Many citizens struggle with the complexities of the tax system. It is nothing to be ashamed of.”
From the bed, Isabela yawned “And of course you need to be looking at my elf’s penis to review the notes.”
"Excuse me!" snapped the woman. "We are not looking at your… your…" She stuttered out, but her statement was technically true - both of the collectors were fascinated by Fenris’s crossed arms, and the aesthetically pleasing bulge his biceps formed around his lean and muscular pectorals, swirling with white ink. Fenris grabbed the papers back from the man and began flipping through them.
"Income - done. Interest - done. Dividends - done. Dependants *sigh* - done. Expenses - done." He shoved the papers back into the man’s chest and glared at the collectors, who did their best not to swoon.
"Er… yes… I’m sure this will be satisfactory…"
"…processing is expected to take eight weeks, with a further two weeks for collection…"
"Good. Then if you don’t mind - " Fenris slammed the door in their faces.
Isabela pouted as he returned to the bed. “You could have let them review the papers. I was quite enjoying looking at your arse.”
"I filled in the papers for you. It is my turn to look at your arse."
"Fair enough," chuckled Isabela, rolling onto her stomach.