Dorian freezing and his eyes darting around like that does a lot more than batting his hand away to get the Bull to back off. He drops his hand, nods, shifts his weight in that slow and careful way he's starting to hate having to do and takes the two or three steps away from Dorian that he needs to get to the crate. Looking down at it as he lowers himself down is a good excuse to make himself stop staring so that's what he does, then stretches his leg out just enough to roll his foot. He does it slowly, the tense set of his jaw not loosening until he finishes a few rotations, and lets the pain narrow his focus.

No throwing his arm around Dorian's shoulder after all. Okay. This isn't about him. He can see and hear Dorian just fine, anyway.

His free hand loosens on the edge of the crate, and he looks up. "You planning on answering my question?" he asks, mildly. "Or is that off the table right now?"

He says that part mildly, too. No sarcasm, not pointed or anything. He just wants to know. He doesn't know if he's going to push or not, if that whole topic actually is off limits. Maybe not. Might not be in the right headspace to do it right anyway, he thinks, pressing his fingers into the meat of his 'good' leg and watching them dig in behind his knee. Shouldn't have touched Dorian like that. Too intimate, doesn't matter that wasn't the kind of intimate he was thinking about. He knows how Dorian gets about that crap, and the last thing Dorian needs right now is something else to get stressed out about. Leave it. Finding out where Dorian's head is at matters a whole lot more.