The Bull grunts and looks around. He doesn't expect to find anything - the plan's to just keep listing off synonyms for rock until Dorian loses his patience with him, but even the gesture of looking around like he's actually spotting something makes him feel uneasy. It's this armour. The boss did good, whoever designed it did as good a job as they could with the visibility, but when what you need to do is keep a bunch of tainted blood out of your eyes visibility is going to take a little hit. The Bull had said that that was fine. He'd said the way he fights, he can just wade in and start hitting anyway, and that doesn't need him to see well enough for detail work. Which is pretty much the truth.
He has to twist his neck even more than he's used to to see the same thing. His narrow range of vision is a little narrower. Hasn't gotten used to that yet.
He stops looking around.
The conversation happening up ahead is too much, though - what he should be helping the boss with up there has enough people on it that it doesn't need him that much, and the conversation happening along with it is too detailed, all history and the background of this place, for him to really focus on in the way he needs to. But he still needs something.
"Alright," the Bull mutters, trying to channel his urge to grumble into something that, in this context, might sound like a joke, as if he'll admit that Dorian was right but won't be happy about it. "So maybe there are just rocks. You got a better suggestion? I probably know more drinking games than you but that's not the kind of thing we're going to get a lot of use out of down here."
no subject
He has to twist his neck even more than he's used to to see the same thing. His narrow range of vision is a little narrower. Hasn't gotten used to that yet.
He stops looking around.
The conversation happening up ahead is too much, though - what he should be helping the boss with up there has enough people on it that it doesn't need him that much, and the conversation happening along with it is too detailed, all history and the background of this place, for him to really focus on in the way he needs to. But he still needs something.
"Alright," the Bull mutters, trying to channel his urge to grumble into something that, in this context, might sound like a joke, as if he'll admit that Dorian was right but won't be happy about it. "So maybe there are just rocks. You got a better suggestion? I probably know more drinking games than you but that's not the kind of thing we're going to get a lot of use out of down here."