[ If he wasn't so upset about the foul taste in his mouth he might've laughed, he smacks his lips together instead. ]
I'm not one for kidding when it comes to something so important as my drinks, Bull. [ Dorian pulls a face, shaking his head. ] Lets try something else shall we? Something that isn't going to make me vomit all over your floor.
[ He laughs, well more like scoffs, and pushes himself to his feet. Edging into the kitchen without much worry of the dragon still chewing on it's treat. He complains a lot, claims she will one day try to eat him, but isn't really all that bothered by her. Not really. ]
Strong enough to drink myself into a stupor, anything less and I may as well drink water.
And it is seemingly never ending. [ Dorian points out, glancing over his shoulder at him. Give him a moment and he'll mix up what he assumes of the couple of strong whiskey and fizzy-brown stuff. More whiskey than the fuzzy stuff. Handing a glass to Bull as he returns. ]
[ Bull is going to just add more Coke, because he kind of likes the bubbles and he's not the one with a dead friend who's suddenly alive. He'll want to be more sober for this, whether it's to clean up Dorian when he throws up or get him back home. ]
[ He settles back down, quick to throw a lot of his glass back. An unwise decision as the burn comes as a very sudden surprise. ] Maker─ [ It's okay, he's fine. Nothing at all wrong here. ]
I am not happy about it, Bull. [ The admission tastes sour in his mouth, so he throws back some more of glass. ] One would think I would be, a dead friend back to life. Not many are that lucky.
[ Heh. Not as good a reaction as the absinthe, but also less possibility of Dorian throwing up on him, so he'll take it. Bull is just going to sip. ]
It's fucking weird, [ he says, offers it as a balm because- well. It is. ] Adds a whole mess of problems for him, for the people who know him. It's messy.
[ He screws up his nose slightly, looking ahead at a some on a nearby wall. ]
Terribly so. He should─ [ A groan. He is loathe to think about it, and yet he is. ] He shouldn't be here. The dead are supposed to remain as such. [ Another drink, his glass will be empty at this rate. ] Kaffas─ does it make me a terrible person to think that?
There is a difference between conjuring a spirit to inhabit the body of a dead man and actually bringing back to life someone who past. [ He grumbles, dragging a hand through his hair, down his face. ] I am not sure if it is even possible to do.
[ Well, clearly it is, but- Bull is just going to not mention that. Partly because it might make Dorian pissy, partly because the idea makes him feel vaguely nauseated. ]
The things these people can offer... there's a lot of power there. It's unsettling.
[ While it may be possible here it isn't, at least, back in Thedas. But he doesn't make distinction. ]
Vishante kaffas. [ He throws back the rest of his drink, the burn surprisingly pleasant. ] I need to think of something else, anything else, before I drive myself mad.
[ A lot of things are surprisingly whole considering the dragon in the kitchen and the Qunari who lives within it. He expected a few scrape marks on the wall from the horns. ]
Anything. I would be more than happy to read one of Cassandra's romance novels as it stands.
[ Wouldn't want anything to happen to them, would we?
He's still of sound mind to see where Bull is going, or see where he thinks he is going. He's predictable in that, what with the numerous comments and flirtations made over the course of their... friendship? Acquaintance? He has never been sure where exactly he stands with the Qunari.
Curiosity sits on the edge of his mind, the very same that has Bull's words repeat in his head at inopportune moments. The click of his glass is all the reply he gets before Dorian stands and moves. ]
[ Friendship works. He's fairly fond of each of the Inquisitor's companions, in their own ways; even Solas had been considered a friend, as much as they had argued. And Dorian... he likes Dorian, likes his sharp wit and his conscience and his drive and the way his ass looks in his robes.
Okay, maybe the last one isn't really friendly, but- whatever.
The point is- he'd be fine with it if their relationship never actually moved into this territory. But Dorian's standing, and Bull sits up straight and reaches out to run his hands up over his ribs. ]
[ It is his choice, isn't it? Whether or not to take the step and cross the line, edge their relationship across it. He had said he wanted to think of something, a distraction, and the hand running up over his ribs is exactly that.
He wonders, briefly, if he should cross, let his frustration and distress over Felix's arrival drive him towards a decision he may end up regretting later. But there is more tp it than that, isn't there? Some pull, what ifs flicking across his mind. He has slept with men for less and regretted many amongst that number from all different reasons. If history is doomed again to repeat...
He's thinking too much.
It is Dorian's choice, and he makes it, leaning forward and closing the gap between them with a kiss. ]
[ It is always his choice. But for what it's worth, Bull is really happy that this is the one Dorian's made.
It's difficult not to tighten his grip further, not to immediately pull Dorian down onto his lap, to pull at his robes and mess up his hair and leave marks all over his neck. But he has control (even without the Qun) and he is not going to do too much, not tonight. Not with Felix and the emotions there in the mix.
Kissing, though. He can do kissing, and he kisses back, keeping his hands steady on Dorian's sides. ]
[ Truthfully he doesn't expect much, he never truly does, forces himself never to hope or expect, simply enjoy what he has in the moment for as long as he can. It's a distraction but not done purely to distract himself, he could not deny he has been curious. Drawn. Dorian is a man draw to thinks he should not do, should not touch, should not explore. And Bull─ those old fool is Tevinter would fluster with rage if they knew. A Qunari, how scandalous.
He likes the man enough, perhaps more than enough, more than he should, but never thought to act on it. Too scared, Bull might say, and he might have been right. He needed a push.
Hands find the sides of the other man's face, his brow furrowing briefly before he deepens the kiss, pushes just enough to make his lungs burn and his pulse thunder in her veins. It surprises how careful Bull is, how he stills when he could pull him in and devour him. Another day perhaps, he thinks, pulling away just enough to breathe. ]
Kaffas.
[ He can taste the whiskey on his lips, the fuzzy brown drink, that hideous foul tasting drink, something else that is distinctly Iron Bull and Maker─ it tastes good. ]
[ It is, Bull thinks a bit wildly, a very good thing that he has control. Dorian tastes like whiskey and sugar and awful green shit, but there's also a bit of his makeup, the wax from his mustache, and his own natural taste. There's the feel of him under his palms, the way he kisses, the swearing.
Bull very much wants to hear more of it, to be the cause of it. He wants to feel more, do more.
But not tonight, he reminds himself. Not tonight.
Still... ]
You can sit down, [ he offers, spreading his legs and gesturing toward his lap. ]
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action.
And makes a face, one large hand coming over to pound on his own chest. ]
Wow. You weren't kidding. That is- bad.
action.
I'm not one for kidding when it comes to something so important as my drinks, Bull. [ Dorian pulls a face, shaking his head. ] Lets try something else shall we? Something that isn't going to make me vomit all over your floor.
action.
[ Solas come back. ]
I've got whiskey. And some- fizzy brown stuff [ Coca-Cola, it's Coca-Cola ] that I'm told it mixes with pretty well.
action.
[ Yes, he will voice his opinion on that and leave it at that.
Blegh, the taste is still in his mouth. ]
Sounds much better than the green death.
action.
[ Ugh he's having a conversation with the Inquisitor about it, it's awful and he hates it. ]
Come help me mix them, then. You can make it as strong as you want.
action.
Strong enough to drink myself into a stupor, anything less and I may as well drink water.
action.
At least water here probably doesn't have corpses in it.
action.
action.
And still not magic.
action.
[ He settles back down, quick to throw a lot of his glass back. An unwise decision as the burn comes as a very sudden surprise. ] Maker─ [ It's okay, he's fine. Nothing at all wrong here. ]
I am not happy about it, Bull. [ The admission tastes sour in his mouth, so he throws back some more of glass. ] One would think I would be, a dead friend back to life. Not many are that lucky.
action.
[ Heh. Not as good a reaction as the absinthe, but also less possibility of Dorian throwing up on him, so he'll take it. Bull is just going to sip. ]
It's fucking weird, [ he says, offers it as a balm because- well. It is. ] Adds a whole mess of problems for him, for the people who know him. It's messy.
action.
Terribly so. He should─ [ A groan. He is loathe to think about it, and yet he is. ] He shouldn't be here. The dead are supposed to remain as such. [ Another drink, his glass will be empty at this rate. ] Kaffas─ does it make me a terrible person to think that?
action.
[ As much as Dorian sometimes says he's an awful person, the fact remains that Dorian is -- truthfully -- one of the best people that Bull knows. ]
It's a perfectly normal reaction to something that's fucking bizarre. If you were thinking about making him re-dead, that'd be bad, but.
action.
action.
The things these people can offer... there's a lot of power there. It's unsettling.
action.
Vishante kaffas. [ He throws back the rest of his drink, the burn surprisingly pleasant. ] I need to think of something else, anything else, before I drive myself mad.
action.
Bull takes another sip before setting his glass down on the coffee table. It's surprisingly unchewed, considering the dragon in the kitchen. ]
Anything, huh?
action.
Anything. I would be more than happy to read one of Cassandra's romance novels as it stands.
action.
C'mere, then.
action.
He's still of sound mind to see where Bull is going, or see where he thinks he is going. He's predictable in that, what with the numerous comments and flirtations made over the course of their... friendship? Acquaintance? He has never been sure where exactly he stands with the Qunari.
Curiosity sits on the edge of his mind, the very same that has Bull's words repeat in his head at inopportune moments. The click of his glass is all the reply he gets before Dorian stands and moves. ]
action.
Okay, maybe the last one isn't really friendly, but- whatever.
The point is- he'd be fine with it if their relationship never actually moved into this territory. But Dorian's standing, and Bull sits up straight and reaches out to run his hands up over his ribs. ]
action.
He wonders, briefly, if he should cross, let his frustration and distress over Felix's arrival drive him towards a decision he may end up regretting later. But there is more tp it than that, isn't there? Some pull, what ifs flicking across his mind. He has slept with men for less and regretted many amongst that number from all different reasons. If history is doomed again to repeat...
He's thinking too much.
It is Dorian's choice, and he makes it, leaning forward and closing the gap between them with a kiss. ]
action.
It's difficult not to tighten his grip further, not to immediately pull Dorian down onto his lap, to pull at his robes and mess up his hair and leave marks all over his neck. But he has control (even without the Qun) and he is not going to do too much, not tonight. Not with Felix and the emotions there in the mix.
Kissing, though. He can do kissing, and he kisses back, keeping his hands steady on Dorian's sides. ]
action.
He likes the man enough, perhaps more than enough, more than he should, but never thought to act on it. Too scared, Bull might say, and he might have been right. He needed a push.
Hands find the sides of the other man's face, his brow furrowing briefly before he deepens the kiss, pushes just enough to make his lungs burn and his pulse thunder in her veins. It surprises how careful Bull is, how he stills when he could pull him in and devour him. Another day perhaps, he thinks, pulling away just enough to breathe. ]
Kaffas.
[ He can taste the whiskey on his lips, the fuzzy brown drink, that hideous foul tasting drink, something else that is distinctly Iron Bull and Maker─ it tastes good. ]
action.
Bull very much wants to hear more of it, to be the cause of it. He wants to feel more, do more.
But not tonight, he reminds himself. Not tonight.
Still... ]
You can sit down, [ he offers, spreading his legs and gesturing toward his lap. ]
action.