Fenris had yet to encounter the elven apostate face-to-face, but he’d heard enough to form an opinion. Threadbare clothes and air of arrogance hiding a mind bright enough to become an influencer of the Inquisition. Fenris didn’t trust him and, yes, it was likely because of the staff in his hand and his unapologetic connection to the fade, but it was also because he intimidated Fenris – a feeling that Fenris hadn’t bothered to confront in a very long time. Lanky, Isabela had called Fenris once, but this man was taller, smarter and held not only status in the inquisition, but arcane knowledge that Fenris had become … curious about, in recent years. He stalked into Solas’ office despite this, sword on his back, and approached the desk. “Apostate,” he announced, niceties be damned, “I request a moment of your time. I have a question I believe may be of interest to you.”