Cassandra only notices when it overtakes her. They're marching through Emprise de Lion, and by the Maker it is so cold. While they're struggling through snow drifts, Varric entertains them all by grousing about the terrain and suggesting Cassandra punches dragons. She laughs, and (privately) allows it's flattering. Their conversation turns to Varric's books, and Cassandra realizes it's been months since their bickering had any heat behind it. She asks why his characters need to suffer so much, and is genuinely enthralled by his response. Varric gestures while he explains, his hands shape ideas in the snowy air. Cassandra nods, asks more questions. Between one answer and the next, something shifts. She can see him, really see him. There is passion in Varric, something that smoulders in the heart of him. The dwarf smiles at something distant, and Cassandra feels warm despite the cold. Snow falls softly while they talk, and Cassandra's fallen, too.