The hint of a grimace crosses the Bull's face as he looks at the hand Dorian's offering, but he's not so off about the leg thing yet that he's going to start being shitty to people for no reason, especially someone who's going through too much shit himself already. So he wraps his hand around Dorian's palm and wrist, tries to put most of his weight on himself and on the cane, and doesn't let himself think for more than an instant about the contact, acknowledging how he feels about it and then, once he's up, letting Dorian's hand go.
"Hey, Krem!" the Bull calls to him. "You guys going to miss me if I head out?"
"Like a hernia!" Krem calls back, and something in the barks of scattered laughter that gets from the other Chargers keeps the Bull from really smiling at the backtalk like he might have wanted to. Some of the laughing sounded louder, sharper than it should be, the kind of sound people make more because there's too much tension they've got to let out than because anything's really that funny, and that kind of sucks the fun out of it.
Yeah. They all need a break, too. The Bull's mouth moves into enough of a grin to acknowledge Krem's joke and then he nods a goodbye, starts heading toward the tavern. It isn't far but he's slow now, so slow, and every step's an exercise in frustration. Or patience. Same difference.
"So," he says, talking while he moves so he doesn't have to think about it. "How much of a distraction you think you're up for? Marie and a couple others are keeping me up to date on the on-the-ground gossip, Vivienne's filling me in about the noble stuff, the guests and everything.
"Or, hey," he adds, as it occurs to him that the Iron Bull would probably at least imply, here, "I got other stuff you can think about all you want." He flexes his bicep extra hard when he leans on the cane and gets the pec on that side flexing along with it, and doing it makes his little grin from a few seconds ago come back, looking more real this time.
That's good. Probably not enough to make Dorian really go tense, not like touching him, and it's fun besides. He hasn't had enough dumb crap in him lately, and it feels almost good to dredge a little bit of it up again. "All you have to do is say the word."
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"Hey, Krem!" the Bull calls to him. "You guys going to miss me if I head out?"
"Like a hernia!" Krem calls back, and something in the barks of scattered laughter that gets from the other Chargers keeps the Bull from really smiling at the backtalk like he might have wanted to. Some of the laughing sounded louder, sharper than it should be, the kind of sound people make more because there's too much tension they've got to let out than because anything's really that funny, and that kind of sucks the fun out of it.
Yeah. They all need a break, too. The Bull's mouth moves into enough of a grin to acknowledge Krem's joke and then he nods a goodbye, starts heading toward the tavern. It isn't far but he's slow now, so slow, and every step's an exercise in frustration. Or patience. Same difference.
"So," he says, talking while he moves so he doesn't have to think about it. "How much of a distraction you think you're up for? Marie and a couple others are keeping me up to date on the on-the-ground gossip, Vivienne's filling me in about the noble stuff, the guests and everything.
"Or, hey," he adds, as it occurs to him that the Iron Bull would probably at least imply, here, "I got other stuff you can think about all you want." He flexes his bicep extra hard when he leans on the cane and gets the pec on that side flexing along with it, and doing it makes his little grin from a few seconds ago come back, looking more real this time.
That's good. Probably not enough to make Dorian really go tense, not like touching him, and it's fun besides. He hasn't had enough dumb crap in him lately, and it feels almost good to dredge a little bit of it up again. "All you have to do is say the word."