Cullen leans against the parapet wall, while Cole sits with his legs dangling over the edge. He halves an orange and drops it into Cole's waiting palm, and together, they watch the courtyard below while they eat.
A blot of motion draws his eye. He sees the Inquisitor strolling down the steps, and for a moment, their gaze catches his.
"Cole?"
He looks up, licking fruit juice off of his cheeks.
"What does the Inquisitor think when they look at me?" It's curiosity that makes him ask— just curiosity. Cole says nothing, and sucks thoughtfully on a sticky thumb. Then he starts.
"Sun glancing off skin, off scars, off metal. He is our lion, and he is big and bold and bright." He pauses, and leaves Cullen wanting more. The boy has a poet's voice. The rawness comes unbidden— he doesn't even have to try for it. "Does he know?"
"Know what?" He doesn't take his eyes off the Inquisitor.
"How I treasure him," Cole says. "He is more precious to me than any gem— his blood runs gold and I am loathe to spill but a single drop."
They fall into silence. Cullen peels another orange and passes it to an eagerly waiting Cole.
"He does now," he says quietly.