Dorian moved his thigh, just enough to touch Bull's knuckles. It was bare beneath his robe, warm from hours beneath the blankets.

"It's going to take me hours," he said, apologetically. "Even if I start now. It won't be cured until tomorrow night, but you'll have it then? Let me get out of bed."

Though he'd said it, he didn't move yet to crawl out of bed. There was urgency there, but he was still hurting, still baffled. Bull's dream had only just woken him.