"Not starving," he points out, but his gaze darts over the witcher's body as he says it, down and back up and then, with another one of those flicks of his ears where they want to swivel backward unhappily and he wants them to sit forward, normal, he lets his arm slip out from under him and lies on his side, as rolled over as he can get without flattening his tail underneath him. He looks up at the ceiling, allows himself a frustrated little sigh.

"Not yet, anyway. You want to address that, though, go right ahead. I get that you don't have a lot of reason to believe I'm not some kind of mindless animal that just does whatever it wants, so- What would it take, you think? For you to feel- not safe, I guess, but something. You want to know how I operate? Or go outside, so you've got room to swing your sword around?"

Before Bull can even congratulate himself for not saying that last part like an innuendo there's another rumble of thunder and now his ears get to lay back flat like they want and he grimaces, unhappy, till it stops. "Be great if we could wait on that one. Guess it depends on how cooped up you're feeling right now."