When Myr answers the door, it's with a pint-sized nug in the crook of his arm and a look of concern on his face. (He'd known the expedition was back, but it hadn't quite registered that Simon must be back, too. Not until the knock on the door and the sound of a voice he hadn't heard but over the sending crystal for weeks. It took real work to keep the delight out of his expression, mold it to something that's a better response to the anger in the templar's voice.)

"Come in a minute while I get this little monster settled. What happened?"

The usual protocol--one he's availed himself of often enough--involved not asking direct, but he can't imagine it's their usual excuse acting up. And, truth be told, it's been so long that he wants a chance to talk to Simon in person before they go wear themselves out past the point much conversation is possible.

Myr steps back out of the doorway, beckoning with the hand that's not occupied holding a sleepy nuglet in place. Plenty of places to sit, now that his former roommate's absconded back to Skyhold. Also not a lot of light, with the day sliding on toward evening, but it isn't as if Simon's here to read.