"I guess we'll have to work through it together," Bull says, his words themselves innocent enough but his tone all low and suggestive, and his tail starts a slow, almost reflexive curl, trailing itself up his thigh-

-and then thunder pierces his ears again, making them press flat to his head and making him twitch and grimace, take a slow breath in through his nose as the noise goes on one second, two, three. Once it's done he lets out a heavy, frustrated sigh, rolling off his hip to sit up. He should be thanking the crappy weather, shouldn't he, even if it's a pain in the ass when it gets loud like this. What the shit does he think he's doing?

"I'd offer you something to drink while we wait this shit out," he says, reaching toward the bundle at his feet, "but even if the kind of drink I'm trying to make was done fermenting, I'm pretty sure the stuff I used isn't going to be great for humans. Want some water, though?" He pulls out a canteen from the bundle, holding it out toward the witcher and giving it a little shake.