Vivienne is still in the Wilds. Cullen goes up to her balcony, leans on the railing, surveys the hall as he idly stuffs sweet bun in his mouth. They're not like the ones he grew up with -- too sweet, with cinnamon and other spices rare in southern Ferelden -- but that doesn't make them objectionable.

(He ate the bacon on the way up from the kitchens.)

He tries to imagine what she'd see, were she here beside him. Too early for most of the nobles to be awake. Can't quite make out Varric and Gatsi; the lines of sight are all wrong. Solas slides into the solarium from wherever it is he sleeps. No one enters or exits through the door to the war room. Harritt, with a steaming mug, walks with his head held high into the undercroft.

Skyhold is slow. Sleepy. Empty.

Sera slips out of the Inquisitor's quarters and follows Harritt. Cullen would feel better about that if he didn't suspect Sera might feel better about whatever happened in the temple if she made several large explosions. For plausible deniability's sake -- Dagna will stop anything too dangerous, and Harritt will stop anything truly destructive -- Cullen leaves the balcony, fetches a few towels and a large mug of tea, and tromps outside to descend into the cells.