Dorian shuts the heavy stone door behind them once the Bull has seated himself – for whatever good it will do if any darkspawn do manage to make their way into the ruins. He assumes if they're quiet, if they remain out of sight, the darkspawn would be likely to pass over the room.

The wisps still float around them, but Dorian adds a few more to their number to drift around the ceiling. It's hardly daylight in here, but it's far easier to see by.

"You might lecture me," he replies, though the expression on his face says he would prefer to avoid that. He looks the Bull over with a critical eye, now that there's time and light for it. "Tell me of the dangers of tampering with such strange forces. Or reprimand me for my cavalier and disrespectful treatment of the dead."

By his tone of voice, Dorian has had this conversation several times over.

"Is the ankle the worst of it?" he asks, clipped and business-like to conceal his worry. "Or is there any other damage I'm not seeing?"