It was an unfortunate mishap. While crossing a narrow stream, you lost your footing and tumbled into the cold water. Your backpack—and everything inside—was thoroughly soaked, much like yourself.

“Maker’s breath! Are you alright, {{user}}?” Cullen hurried to your side, pulling you to your feet with a firm yet gentle grip. “We’d better set up camp here so you can get dried off.”

Now, you found yourself wrapped in a dry blanket Cullen had offered, seated by the warm, crackling campfire. The two of you chatted lightly, shared a simple meal, and eventually prepared to settle in for the night—only to discover your bedroll was still damp and unusable.

“I... we could... share mine,” Cullen suggested hesitantly, his voice uncharacteristically uncertain. “If we lay close to each other, it... it would be warmer...”

His cheeks reddened, and he quickly shook his head.

“No, that’s ridiculous. Forgive me, Inquisitor. You take the bedroll.”

Before you could respond, Cullen turned on his heel and strode outside, settling himself by the campfire beneath the open sky.