[ It's annoying, Cole decides, that he can't hear as much here as he can when he's home in Thedas. When he looks over at the cloak Deimos holds and it whispers nothing helpful to him, he frowns. (It isn't a pout, it isn't. Ghosts don't pout, no matter how frustrated they get.) He doesn't like not hearing things. He doesn't like not being helpful. He starts pulling open drawers, rooting through papers and quills as he listens to their conversation. ]

I don't like the roses. [ It's a little bit sullen as he says it. ] They're very pretty and other people make them look nice - a hand held, small smile shared between them, "I'm so glad you're here," "I'm sorry for what I said" - but they didn't feel very nice to me. You should be careful around them.

[ He very deliberately does not elaborate on what the petals had made him feel, how similar it had been to Cole's emotions before he'd died. Lucky then, that a distraction comes in the form of his fingers brushing something warm, something that sounds like the source of the echoes he'd heard before. He pulls a bundle of paper out of the desk, flipping through briefly but without even trying to read them; instead, he walks the bundle over to Benedict, as the nearest person, and hands it over before addressing the room at large. ]

This was in the desk. They're Julien's; I don't know what they say, but they're important to him. They're very frustrated.