Dorian manages to let out a laugh – just a puff of air that manages to hint at amusement.

"I could absolutely take you on," he replies, just the right amount of haughty, "and it would be your own fault for underestimating me if I found reason enough to best you."

The Bull is warm at his side, and more importantly alive. Perhaps the Bull had downplayed the seriousness of his injuries before, but Dorian is gratified, at least, that he hadn't been completely lying. The man is mostly intact, and while Dorian can't mend all of his hurts – he has only rudimentary knowledge of healing spells, after all – he can at least do a bit to patch things up.

He hesitates for a bit before he slowly ventures, "I'm surprised you were impressed."

There's a touch of caution to his voice. Dorian is hardly ashamed of his skills and would be the first to applaud himself, but he knows the Bull's relationship with magic is fraught, at best. And according to some people – mostly plebeians with no understanding of the nuances of magic – necromancy isn't that much better than blood magic.