Strange wishes he could trap that moment in amber to examine it from all angles, tilt and back and forth and catch exactly how Benedict did that,

but instead he just reaches out, bemused, to take the frozen drink back. “Well, I’ll just wait; it’s fit for summer and better than making it too-hot. It does make me miss central air and cooling something awful, though. Does Tevinter have climate-controlled buildings?”

Retrieving the cup, he enjoys the sting of the cold on his hands even if he can’t break into the frozen wine just yet. “Like a summer popsicle. It’ll become a slushie,” he says. Does Thedas have even slushies? Maybe it’s time they did.