That was certainly a question. Dorian placed his free thumbnail in his mouth and pressed it between his teeth absentmindedly, as his other hand still worked out the coils of pain and damage in Bull's leg.

"There's the opera, or the symphony orchestra. Movies are lovely too. The weather isn't nice enough yet for picnicking or swimming, but ... there's always walking by the boardwalk."

He felt the magic around Bull's leg uncoil something; that was good enough for now. Dorian turned his attention to the tea, and the food.

He poured some of the vinaigrette on his salad. Bull was a better cook than he was, by far.