Sorrel waits, listening with a faintly pinched expression, right up until the name; Solas, which engenders a full-bodied grimace. It's as if she were right in front of him, his hands coming up, the question alive in every line of the gesture: what the hell are you thinking?.

"Solas!?" He cries, deep in his exasperation, "That fucking ponce, she's back with him? After everything he's— He is literally Fen'Harel!"

Which might mean anything.

"Creators beyond the veil, what is wrong with her? She is so much smarter than this. I thought she was—" Sorrel starts, seeming to recognize, or remember, the inappropriate audience he seems to find himself with, "...Sorry, it's just so damned frustrating. I could shake her."