As frightened as Dorian had been earlier, Bull's touch calmed him down. It was ridiculous, the way that Bull knew what to do to help, how he knew where Dorian squirreled away all of his important but rarely used things.

He took the box and pulled the gloves out, leaning into Bull. Dorian slipped the gloves on one hand at a time. They were gorgeous things, thin but impossibly strong, dark but glossy. They shimmered in a way simple leathers didn't, beautiful and rare.

Dorian could pick the mess up with them.

"I'll get them cleaned up, then start om your potion. I've got to get rid of this somehow after. Just burying it isn't good enough. Maker knows it will probably just grow straight out of the ground. Shit."