"If you're lucky," Solas replies, trying to hide the just-there smirk that threatens to cross his lips. It doesn't take them too long to fall away from the oppressive air of the Gallows - a place Solas hates all the more each day he has to work there - and enter the main bustle of Kirkwall, where he is ignored. He is at ease with that, he thinks, as he would rather be ignored than given undue attention.

"Master Tethras, anyone would think you were trying to coerce me into something." That, at least, is a gentle tease; he knows that Varric is simply being kind, in his own way, and that Solas is just another of the strays he is more than willing to take care of, for now.

All he can do is follow Varric each step of the way, trying to understand the pathways they take so that he can find his own way back if he needs to. Each little piece of information is filed away as best as Solas can manage it, tucked into parts of his mind in case he needs to use them - brothers and shops and people that might be useful or important for some reason or another in the future, whatever he might decide.

The smells and sights are almost too much, especially when he has spent so long locked away in the library reading and painting and drawing, but it is not entirely unwelcome. Solas had almost forgotten what it was like to live in an exiting, populated area, and it makes something comfortable settle around him, warm and familiar.

"You brought me all this way for bacon?"