Varric was not, generally speaking, a morning person. He usually woke up with a grudging sort of slowness, and proceeded to be a bit hazy until he'd found a cup of something strong and hot (be it tea or otherwise), and ate something. In Kirkwall, this tendency for slow rising had only ever been a charming quirk and, considering Kirkwall's active nightlife, had never actually hindered his activities. Here, in the ass end of Thedas, where it was always cold and the tea was perpetually stale, Varric's grogginess was something he struggled against and, as such, it took on a hint of perpetual irritation.

His questionable mood cleared quickly enough, of course, like early morning fog burning off in daylight, but it was always there the next day.

When Varric came around to his table, at barely seven in the morning, and found his fireplace lit and a plate of food waiting for him, he was flummoxed, but he lacked the presence of mind to ask questions. In fact, he was still so groggy when he sat down that he didn't even question Bethany's presence at the table, nor why she was in Skyhold at all.

It was quite possible he hadn't yet remembered they were in Skyhold.

"Morning, Sunshine," Varric mumbled in the friendly but woebegone tone of someone who wanted, quite desperately, to climb back in bed but couldn't. He dropped himself into his chair and, as he picked up a piece of warm bread, shot a bleary stare at Bethany.

It lasted for several seconds before his brow furrowed with visible confusion.