The Bull nods, part of him focusing on his breathing, another part feeling Dorian next to him. Helpful, in a way he bets Dorian doesn't mean it to be; it's not like Dorian can hold most the Bull's total weight with anything other than magic, but the Bull can try and feel just how steady Dorian is now, look at how he's doing up close, try and gauge a little better how much all that took out of him.
It's something he'd be doing anyway but it helps, having something to focus on that isn't him. Someone else's problems. Maybe Dorian's feeling the same way. If someone can get something that isn't terrible out of this whole damn ankle thing, then Dorian should get to have it. They both probably need every little piece of whatever keeps them going that they can get right now.
"Yeah, and I bet you need a rest." He looks around, decides on a direction, takes a slower, bracing breath. Leaning mostly against the wall and a little against Dorian, the Bull starts moving. He can add some more 'not terrible' to this, he thinks. Not a lot, but for the moment, they've got time. They're alive. The mood might not get a whole lot better, but that doesn't mean the Bull can't do a better job now than he did crawling through that hallway earlier.
Dorian's here, not just a voice that was only half as strong as his heart pounding in his ears but here, close enough to see, to feel. The ceiling is too low, still, but the room is open. Not great, maybe. But better. So the Bull can do better.
"After doing all that, I mean." He pauses, takes a breath against the pain that sounds louder trapped inside the mask. Keeps going. "Hot damn, what a show!" Another pause, shorter, quieter, and after he takes that second for himself he makes his voice kind of smug and teasing. "Sometimes I almost think you actually could take me on, if you really wanted to."
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It's something he'd be doing anyway but it helps, having something to focus on that isn't him. Someone else's problems. Maybe Dorian's feeling the same way. If someone can get something that isn't terrible out of this whole damn ankle thing, then Dorian should get to have it. They both probably need every little piece of whatever keeps them going that they can get right now.
"Yeah, and I bet you need a rest." He looks around, decides on a direction, takes a slower, bracing breath. Leaning mostly against the wall and a little against Dorian, the Bull starts moving. He can add some more 'not terrible' to this, he thinks. Not a lot, but for the moment, they've got time. They're alive. The mood might not get a whole lot better, but that doesn't mean the Bull can't do a better job now than he did crawling through that hallway earlier.
Dorian's here, not just a voice that was only half as strong as his heart pounding in his ears but here, close enough to see, to feel. The ceiling is too low, still, but the room is open. Not great, maybe. But better. So the Bull can do better.
"After doing all that, I mean." He pauses, takes a breath against the pain that sounds louder trapped inside the mask. Keeps going. "Hot damn, what a show!" Another pause, shorter, quieter, and after he takes that second for himself he makes his voice kind of smug and teasing. "Sometimes I almost think you actually could take me on, if you really wanted to."