Felassan does not want to sit. He stands near one of the gaps in the wall, eyes traveling here and there to take in the details of the room. Homey. There was a time he'd consider it humble — not a single wall covered top to bottom in a glittering golden mosaic — but he's been living rough for some time, quite happily, and he never liked the mosaics to begin with.

So it's a fine house, as far as houses go, but it's strange to see Solas in it like this, only a few hours removed from him being a silent, looming presence behind Felassan in the Fade, a force of nature coming for the entire world. Now he's making a home. Building a library.

"I like her," is where they shall begin. He doesn't imagine Solas cares, at this point, but he smiles anyway, arch, like it matters what he thinks. Like Solas ought to be relieved to have his approval. He's listening for footsteps, any clatter of dishware, but even though he doesn't hear them, he keeps his voice low enough anyone sitting farther away from Solas would need to strain to hear him. "Is it real?"