The Bull listens, watches but doesn't stare. Dorian following him so closely, not keeping that personal space the Bull sitting down would have given him, that means he didn't mess up too badly with the touching thing but he doesn't want to push it. All this will start feeling more normal, more natural, if he just waits; being able to touch and stare and take Dorian in would have been a shortcut, but he doesn't need a shortcut more than Dorian needs the right kind of company right now.

"Going to be a long week," he says, rubbing at the back of his knee one more time and then setting his hand on his thigh. His tone is neutral, not implying anything about Dorian's judgement one way or the other, because telling Dorian he's overreacting doesn't occur to him. It might not have occurred to him - at least, not right away - even if it had been what Dorian needed to hear. Not right now. That's not where his mind's at, and getting Dorian talking about it is what the Bull's focusing on. He leans forward over his knees, puts too much weight on that one foot and lifts it up, then sets it carefully back on the snow. "Least you don't have to spend it with nothing else to do but obsess over the whole thing, shut away from everyone. But you said this part wasn't your idea was it, being out here. I guess you were prepared for another week cooped up in- where, your room, right?"