Dorian follows the Bull with his gaze, watching his movements carefully. He closes the space between them while the Bull moves toward the crate, ready to— well, it seems silly to be ready to catch him. Dorian may not be weak, but he doubts very much he'll be able to physically catch the Bull, should he fall.
His worries are unfounded, thankfully, as the Bull manages to settle himself without toppling, and, satisfied, Dorian moves to stand beside him, turning to face the Chargers as they work. He crosses his arms over his chest.
He's explained his concerns to Evelyn, of course, but she was only too happy to brush his worries aside. The healers have cleared him, and in the time between the Storm Coast and today, he's shown absolutely no signs of sickness. "You're being paranoid, Dorian," she was far too eager to say. "You'll be fine."
And Dorian, already feeling badly for having worried her for so long, had relented.
It's— different with the Bull. He's a practical man, Dorian knows. He's a strategist, for all that he acts like a buffoon. Like Dorian, he likes having the information at hand.
Dorian sighs sharply, arms crossing over his chest. "If you must know—"
He hesitates for a moment, gathering his words. Then, "If you must know, during my research with Alexius, we gathered a great deal of information on victims of Blight-sickness. Many who were infected developed symptoms not long after exposure. Some took hours to show signs, and others took only a few days. In either case, it didn't take much time at all for the infection to take hold."
He taps a finger against his bicep, shifting his weight to one hip as he thinks.
"But..." He trails off, sighing again with frustration. "Blight-sickness is unpredictable. How it affects me would be different from how it would affect you, which would be different than how it would affect Cremisius. After this long, chances are good that I'll be fine, but there's always that rare chance that..."
Ah. Maybe he does sound paranoid.
He shakes his head. "If after another week my condition hasn't changed, I'll feel more confident."
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His worries are unfounded, thankfully, as the Bull manages to settle himself without toppling, and, satisfied, Dorian moves to stand beside him, turning to face the Chargers as they work. He crosses his arms over his chest.
He's explained his concerns to Evelyn, of course, but she was only too happy to brush his worries aside. The healers have cleared him, and in the time between the Storm Coast and today, he's shown absolutely no signs of sickness. "You're being paranoid, Dorian," she was far too eager to say. "You'll be fine."
And Dorian, already feeling badly for having worried her for so long, had relented.
It's— different with the Bull. He's a practical man, Dorian knows. He's a strategist, for all that he acts like a buffoon. Like Dorian, he likes having the information at hand.
Dorian sighs sharply, arms crossing over his chest. "If you must know—"
He hesitates for a moment, gathering his words. Then, "If you must know, during my research with Alexius, we gathered a great deal of information on victims of Blight-sickness. Many who were infected developed symptoms not long after exposure. Some took hours to show signs, and others took only a few days. In either case, it didn't take much time at all for the infection to take hold."
He taps a finger against his bicep, shifting his weight to one hip as he thinks.
"But..." He trails off, sighing again with frustration. "Blight-sickness is unpredictable. How it affects me would be different from how it would affect you, which would be different than how it would affect Cremisius. After this long, chances are good that I'll be fine, but there's always that rare chance that..."
Ah. Maybe he does sound paranoid.
He shakes his head. "If after another week my condition hasn't changed, I'll feel more confident."