He will not have this conversation over the crystal. And he is ill at the thought of needing to have it at all. Whatever happened on the mission that Solas, Gwenaelle, and Iorveth found themselves on was clearly firmly in the realm of awful, but he will content himself with waiting for the report to reach his desk.

All of them are alive. It is, in the end, what matters most.

He lingers before he calls, rolling the crystal between his fingers while the sun sets outside his window. Once the room is dark- once he must either light candles or continue to brood like a particularly blonde fox in a burrow- he lifts it to his lips, speaks clearly Solas’ name, pauses, and says;

“Could I beg your company this evening, my friend?”