The Bull just frowns into the distance. Knowing the darkspawn are close has him automatically cataloguing all the weak points in their new armour, all the ways he can fight a little differently to give blood spatter less of a chance to get in to them. It's good, he tells himself, that he's one of the ones the rest of them count on to wade into the thick of the fighting out in all the blood and guts, so the ones who can do their thing from a distance get a chance to do it. It's good that a part of him's thinking about ghouls, about the chance of the taint turning his mind that way - or, it can be a good thing, that little, persistent thought. It'll make him careful.

This feeling doesn't have to turn itself into a weakness. It can be useful. Help him do what needs to get done.

They're prepared for this, anyway. As close to it as they're going to get.

Focus. Darkspawn aren't close yet, and Dorian still needs distracting. "So," he murmurs, just for Dorian to hear. "This place you're thinking of. We're talking countries, right? So it's no country we've ever been to together, instead of some library or whorehouse or something you just really like."