"Solas? I had some questions."

He carefully replaced the stopper in the bottle before him. "I am hardly surprised, Seeker. You do not initiate conversations. You interrogate or accuse…and sometimes you do both." Brushing his hands together, he turned to face her. "Since today is interrogation day, shall I offer you a chair? Or do you prefer to stand, for maximum intimidation purposes?"

The sneer on her face didn't reach her eyes. There was a sadness there as if suddenly she realized how others perceived her. Solas had often thought she knew, and simply didn't care. It was difficult for a woman of privilege elevated to a position of power to remain soft as water.

"It is about the… the Herald."

He felt his chest tighten. "Is it the mark? Has she… is there pain? I had not seen her for many days and only briefly this morning." The image came unbidden of their Lady Herald striding up the stone steps before the Chantry, her hair coming undone at the nape of her neck, cloak blown open by the wind.

Cassandra's lips parted in surprise. "I… no. She is well. Although I am certain she appreciates your…" her brow furrowed, "concern. I was hoping you had a development, something you had uncovered."

It was now Solas' turn to frown. "No. Nothing has changed. Why do you ask? Have I worn out my welcome."

"Oh," eyebrows again raised. "I am sorry. I had assumed…. it was foolish of me. When I saw how you. I thought… never mind. This was my mistake."

He watched her pace awkwardly before she made for the door. What reaso n could she possibly have for thinking that he had information he was not sharing? "May I ask why you thought perhaps I had learned something new?"

Cassandra laughed shortly, sharply. "You would think I am ridiculous if I told you."

"And if I pressed? I want to ensure that anything I am doing, anything in my behavior is making you think I have anything to hide…." he held his hands open, an offer of supplication. Cassandra nodded, taking in a breath.

"You… you look at her differently." Cassandra's eyes had widened in a way that almost looked expectant.

"Differently?" he asked uneasily. "Differently how, exactly?"

"Before, when I asked you to study her, to find out what her link was to the explosion… and even after, for a time, you stared at her as if she were a riddle you were trying to unravel. Like an object of fascination."

Solas laughed, "I still find her fascinating, I assure you."

"Yes, but. It is different, yes? There is something in the way you stare. As if you are seeing her for the first time, every time. It was a look of knowledge, a look of…" she trailed off before smiling sheepishly. "I told you, it is ridiculous. If you say it is nothing... I am sorry I disturbed you."

She left the dwelling, closing the door behind her. Solas sat down in his chair, the concoction on the table momentarily forgotten. The conversation had left him confused and oddly disoriented. In his mind, he replayed the last few times he had encountered the Herald, wondering what the reason could be for Cassandra's curiosity. The last time he had encountered her before this morning, he had observed her coming out of the blacksmith and found himself running to catch up to her. She was wearing her hair back, pulled into a low ponytail that swung when she walked. As she turned to see him, she tucked a loose strand behind her ear, using just her thumb and forefinger. He'd noticed the pink nail beds of her hands, fingernails perfectly round, ending in slight half-moon cuticles. They'd spoken of summer, both asking if they were likely to see it again. Before that, it must have been on the road in the Hinterlands, when she had returned with her hunting party and asked for his assistance in dealing with the mage encampment. Her new doublet was green and gold. It had complimented her eyes. She did have quite lovely eyes. His stomach then did a most uncomfortable forward somersault and he felt the creeping dread of thoughts best buried. Solas turned back to his desk and shoved his notes about irritatedly. Now was not the time for flights of fancy and flowery words about a woman's eyes.