It's a luxury few would ever experience. Especially an elf, a Dalish one to be exact. This wasn't their world, never would be and creators she must be so lowly. So far away from all that she knows, all that she ever had and a part of him wants to pull her close, hold her tight and let her pretend for a moment that she had never left for this stupid conclave. That nothing had ever changed.

Instead he lets her wander, watching her trail her fingers over the bath and he can imagine what it would feel like, her hand trailing over his skin. Can imagine the callouses on her fingers from working with her staff, and how reverently she would touch each of his scars. Just like he would worship all of her own and he swallows thickly, forcing such thoughts down but it's hard when she smirks like that and the room already feels warmer before she even calls up the flames.

"Is..." He is impressed, and he doesn't try and hide it. Liaran knows better than any how much she's always struggled with flame, even small ones. Her control has always lacked, no matter how much she practices, small sparks always risking turning into bigger blazes. But now it seems like she's learnt her control and he steps forward, his smile a proud one as he dips a finger into the warming water.

"You've gotten better," he says, as if that can hide the flush to his cheeks at her suggestion of sharing. Creators, she's always moved fast, never even tried to hide the way she's wanted him. Even now, with him ready to face his feelings honestly he doesn't know how to do it. Not as openly as she does and instead he swallows, looking at the water instead. "I'm impressed Isetriel."