"Yes, well, I don't always feel like it." It was more aching honesty, more gentle wryness. But Bull loved him, and that mattered. It also mattered how Bull felt now. It mattered that Dorian listened, so he did, crefully and with compassion.

He could never think like a man who'd been raised under the Qun, not really. But they were both trying so very hard, to be themselves out from under a heavy burden.

"You know, Bull," he murmured. He was tight against Bull's side, warm and comfortable and sore in only good ways.

"Where I came from, Solas said something to you once when we were out ... that you aren't Tal-Vashoth, not really. It seemed like it was good for you to hear it. And maybe he was right. You're Iron Bull."