Dorian is hardly surprised by the Bull's speed – or lack thereof. Stubborn man that the Bull is, Dorian would wager that the other man hasn't looked after himself as well as he should; the fact that he was out here instead of resting in his chambers was more than evidence enough. He keeps pace with the Bull, nevertheless, putting on an air of ease and confidence that's practically second nature.

I'm not going this slow for you, his demeanor seems to say. You're going this slow for me.

He's happy to let the Bull ramble – a diversion to draw attention away from the Bull's pace, perhaps, or something to keep the Bull's mind from the pain? But when the other man seems to interrupt himself with a sudden stroke of inspiration, Dorian glances over and sees the way the Bull flexes.

... Admittedly, it's impressive.

But Dorian rolls his eyes, nevertheless, heaving out an aggravated groan.

"Maker, spare me from your displays," he says. "It's far too early in the day for this."