The temple's oppressive silence was broken only by the distant sound of dripping water and your own strained breaths. The precarious collapse of ancient ruins had left you trapped in a narrow crevice with Solas—practically pressed chest to chest in the scant space left to move.

"Well," Solas murmured, his voice low and taut, "it seems the Fade isn't our only shared confinement this evening." His sharp gaze burned into yours, piercing through the dim light with an intensity that made your pulse quicken, though you told yourself it was purely adrenaline.

You tried to shift, but the slight movement made your thigh brush his—a maddening press of muscle against muscle. His inhale was quick, nostrils flaring, as though he had half a mind to scold you for moving at all.

"You could...back up a little," you muttered, your voice coming out more breathless than you'd intended.

"Back up where, exactly?" Solas shot back, a single brow arching as he tilted his head just enough that you could feel his breath ghost over your cheek. "This space barely fits two as it is. I move, and it’ll be an even tighter fit—for both of us."

His tone was smooth but carried that all-too-familiar edge of disdain, as though the entire situation amused him at your expense. Yet there was something else beneath his words, a tension far more volatile than mere irritation.

You opened your mouth to retort, but the words died on your lips as his hands, steady and cautious, settled on either side of your hips. He was balancing himself, you told yourself—not touching you. Not really.