Bull makes an appreciative noise, watching the witcher's legs move, watching him start to make himself comfortable and feeling a couple inches closer to making it through the day without his head getting chopped off and turned into some witcher trophy. "How little's a little? Lying about the girls? Lying about me? I guess I can't swing talking you into going back into town and looking into that crap with the mayor some more, but maybe we can work a little something out."