Usually Asher is the one starting the tavern fights. It happens; someone looks at Asher the wrong way, says the wrong thing, well it's waving a red rag at a druffalo and off he goes. Tonight he's walking into the scene of chaos, still battered and bruised from a job in Gwaren and time spent in the hold when he ducks a swing aimed his way before savagely kicking the idiot's legs out from under them, stamping down hard on a kneecap until it gives way with a sickening but satisfying crunch.

He keeps out of it for once though, he looks like shit and he's got plenty of wagons of goods tethered outside to get back to Skyhold all in one piece as he eases himself into a seat with a grunt, slamming his hand down harder on the bar harder than he needs to.

"Pint. The good stuff, don't even try to cheat me with the pisswater," he growls before he glances over, the thunderous look on his face disappearing as he begins to grin. "Shite, Lena? What're you doing in my little slice of bumfuck nowhere?"