Bull isn't thrilled to have such strange changes out of his control, but he's had decent distraction since he and Dorian cemented their Bond in an official way. The weight of the half tooth sits comfortably against his chest and somewhere in the background of everything he's vaguely aware of Dorian.
That, too, is a comfort. It keeps him grounded as more scales appear, ones he can see now.
For all that Dorian has been upset by the weather, Bull kind of likes it. He's gotten used to the cold in the south and it's an excuse for hot cocoa, which he couldn't get enough of in southern Thedas.
He spies a pair of familiar ears.
"Balthier," he says when the rest of the man appears. "You here for a drink?"
If nothing else, The Iron Bull is an easy enough fellow to get along with. Not a hume to begin with and without all the same attendant baggage, he actually quite likes talking to the man. For all he feels unsettled in his own skin, he can still pull together a surprisingly smooth smile.
“Oh, I could be, but a drink wasn’t what brought me here,” he suggests, ears flicking in an expressive manner. “Your treat?”
Bull rolls his eye but he smiles. "I'm getting two, what's one more."
Dorian hates the cold and Bull knows he'd rather stay out in the Wilde at this rate, but he wanted to come back for the Parliament meeting and Bull had been keen to go too. So while Dorian is holed up, probably in front of the fire and under several blankets, Bull wants to surprise him with something nice.
"You know, the ears aren't bad," he says as they move a bit, quite expressive. He kind of likes them, actually. "At least they suit you."
There’s something disproportionately satisfying about a little consideration even if it needed to be solicited. He shrugs rather carelessly even as he takes a bit of a glance around—two, he said, and yet the Bull’s quite clearly without his companion. Well, he’ll take advantage of a chance to offer him brief company regardless.
“Such leporine features do look quite handsome on me, don’t they?” He preens, running a hand over one of his ears. It’s an effort to keep up the act, but worth it to project a particular image. He isn’t here to be taken seriously right now. “Not that I don’t always look quite fine.”
"Well, now you're just milking it," he says with a dry smile as Balthier preens. He's the sort. If Bull is honest with himself, there are mannerisms and movements and tones he sees and hears from Balthier that are intimately familiar to him. It makes him wonder if the foundations beneath them are equally similar.
"What happens to you on full moons? Insatiable urge to dig holes?"
Balthier simply quirks a brow, and he finds himself quite comfortably side-stepping the teasing.
Or, perhaps, making it worse? Escalating the issue a bit. It’s all good natured, of course.
“Is that the manner of insatiability you’re curious about?” In making it about such a suggestive topic, naturally, it allows him to avoid the more serious subject.
"Eh, seemed crass to ask about the other thing rabbits do in public." His good eye is bright with amusement, though, as they approach the front of the line. Humans have hang-ups about discussing sex, he's learned that much in the last decade of living among them.
Balthier shrugs somewhat carelessly. Of all things to be so reluctant to share, he's quite sure something so minor isn't even worth consideration. Then again he'd much rather a chance to play word games and perhaps flirt at length.
"Oh, nothing too particular," For now, he'll let the subject be changed. He might be lying just now, which he proves out rather quickly. "Spiced with cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves, ginger, a proper dollop of whipped cream--as one does."
Bull laughs quietly when Balthier makes his order. He should have suspected something extravagant, but that was-- interesting. It sounds good, though. He adds his orders and pays the person that has to make all of them with quiet gratitude.
"Nothing too particular," he echoes as he looks down at Balthier. The ears really are quite fetching. Bull studies the young man and he feels the urge to keep him close. He can't shake it.
"Does this mean you're going to come along for the delivery, or are you going to take your cocoa and run?"
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no subject
That, too, is a comfort. It keeps him grounded as more scales appear, ones he can see now.
For all that Dorian has been upset by the weather, Bull kind of likes it. He's gotten used to the cold in the south and it's an excuse for hot cocoa, which he couldn't get enough of in southern Thedas.
He spies a pair of familiar ears.
"Balthier," he says when the rest of the man appears. "You here for a drink?"
no subject
“Oh, I could be, but a drink wasn’t what brought me here,” he suggests, ears flicking in an expressive manner. “Your treat?”
no subject
Dorian hates the cold and Bull knows he'd rather stay out in the Wilde at this rate, but he wanted to come back for the Parliament meeting and Bull had been keen to go too. So while Dorian is holed up, probably in front of the fire and under several blankets, Bull wants to surprise him with something nice.
"You know, the ears aren't bad," he says as they move a bit, quite expressive. He kind of likes them, actually. "At least they suit you."
no subject
“Such leporine features do look quite handsome on me, don’t they?” He preens, running a hand over one of his ears. It’s an effort to keep up the act, but worth it to project a particular image. He isn’t here to be taken seriously right now. “Not that I don’t always look quite fine.”
no subject
"What happens to you on full moons? Insatiable urge to dig holes?"
no subject
Or, perhaps, making it worse? Escalating the issue a bit. It’s all good natured, of course.
“Is that the manner of insatiability you’re curious about?” In making it about such a suggestive topic, naturally, it allows him to avoid the more serious subject.
no subject
"You have any preferences for your cocoa?"
no subject
"Oh, nothing too particular," For now, he'll let the subject be changed. He might be lying just now, which he proves out rather quickly. "Spiced with cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves, ginger, a proper dollop of whipped cream--as one does."
no subject
"Nothing too particular," he echoes as he looks down at Balthier. The ears really are quite fetching. Bull studies the young man and he feels the urge to keep him close. He can't shake it.
"Does this mean you're going to come along for the delivery, or are you going to take your cocoa and run?"