"I mean, mostly the tail and the legs and the horns, but yeah, when you turn your head that way it definitely tracks." Eskel says, untroubled by the ruin of Bull's face. He has no leg to stand on there: the only reason he has two eyes in all the scarring is because the bitch who had saved his life had allowed him that small charity when she left him maimed for life. "But what I can't figure..." He rumbles idly. "Is what you smell like. Easy to track you by scent because it's so distinctive." He studies Bull carefully. "'Cause unless you got a girlfriend you haven't told me about, this tent reeks of succubus."