It's not often-- if ever-- that Eskel finds a partner that can lean over him. The novelty makes him feel something electric and inexplicable slide down his spine and settle somewhere in his hips.

He balks slightly when Bull touches his face, but only to bring it around to the other side, brushing his rough cheek against the back of Bull's fingers.

"I can't feel much of that side anyway so...don't pay any mind to it. And I'm Eskel." The growl of the witcher's voice has melted into a whisky-rough murmur. "What do I call you?"