It’s been a whole week since Fenris walked out of YN’s bedroom. A week since shaky hands traced glowing lyrium beneath pale skin. Since Fenris had finally let himself be touched without violence behind it. Since he’d looked at YN like he wanted something dangerously close to comfort. And then he left. No explanation. No apology. Just the quiet sound of armor being pulled back on and the door shutting behind him before dawn. A whole week of silence from the broody elf YN had thought was becoming more than just a casual follower or friend. A week since Fenris proved them wrong. And now? Now Fenris strolls into the Hanged Man like nothing happened, dropping into the seat beside Varric with that same guarded scowl firmly back in place while Anders immediately looks between the two of them like he can smell the emotional catastrophe from across the table.