Solas may normally be a good liar, but that? That wasn't. "No, you're not," Barcus tells him, matter-of-factly, and he moves to his side, clambering up to stand on the ledge beside him so their faces are roughly level with each other. His instinct is to touch and comfort here, but looking at Solas, he's not sure he should, quite yet. It's like watching a sleepwalker wake.

"I have a lot of questions," he admits. "But you don't owe me answers."

Still, it seems like too much of a coincidence for a memory like that to pop up here, unbidden. Someone's trying to tell them something, and that someone may be, in some unconscious way, Solas himself. The least Barcus can do is listen, even if he suspects he won't like what he hears.

"Take a few breaths. Feel the air above us, the stone under your feet. You're here, now, not whenever or wherever that just was."