Well I'm going as fast as I can, I promise you. [He's clearly joking, stooped over her shoulder in the span of a heartbeat as his hands find hers, small and shadowed in the wake of flickering flames and his own scuffed-up skin. It's probably a touch too personal for her tastes (it doesn't take keen eyes to note how humans can be as sensitive about personal space as often as they're spurred on by violations of it) but she has no family here, no close ties or grounding contacts, and young as he is he can't help but feel responsible for her comfort in Skyhold's towering, frigid halls.

She needs someone. And somehow, noting a certain, potent strain of determination in her blood, he doubts she'll find it on her own.] You'll have better luck working with the thread rather than trying to wrestle it to the ground.