Indeed. That would make a situation that is curious at its best into one that is untenable.

[Solas follows Cullen's gaze, studying the depths of the forest with interest. There is a strangely dangerous edge to the place. He is willing to dismiss it as the kind of danger inherent to all wild places, but this seems, somehow, more than that. It makes him uneasy.]

Did you say how long you've been here? Months? That every month we find ourselves in that vat of... [He flounders, searching for an appropriate word. "Goo" isn't very Thedosian.] Of muck?