The grumble is an acknowledgement, an evening of the score. Solas relaxes, minutely; alright, then. The Iron Bull is still, as ever, himself. He can do this.

"Yes," He admits, because it is undeniably so, "But that was out of necessity, not preference. I had much to see and do that could not be done while still in contact with the Inquisition."

And too, he had hoped to further blunt Lavellan's affections, as well as his own. Futile as the effort was, it had been made for good reasons, and Bull was right to be wary.

"How much has she told you?"