Dorian made a noise of sympathy and sat down on the sofa next to Bull, his legs tucked neatly under himself. It was easier to lean that way, so that he could rest one hand on Bull's bad leg, and let his magic do what it could to soothe away the inflammation.

The gentle green light flared to life on the tips of his fingers as he worked, the emerald waters of the Fade.

"A date. A proper date. With you. That does sound strangely lovely -- er, no offense, Bull." He hoped Bull understood how he meant it. There hadn't been much dating for Dorian in his life so far.

"Is that a strawberry balsamic? You know me too well."