[ By the time Bull settles back on the bed, Dorian's found a place to lean against the headboard, taking the towel to clean his hands off in the first instance. ]
Hold, thank you--
[ His fingertips dance against the side of the pitcher, a faint glimmer of orange light making spindly arcanish marks along the surface, warming under Bull's hand. In the next second, there's steam lazily rising from the mouth of the pitcher.
Humour and ease recovered enough that he tips a wink at the qunari, Dorian sets about cleaning himself, movements precise and neat, as if flagrant uses of magic in casual proximity happen all the time. ]
no subject
Hold, thank you--
[ His fingertips dance against the side of the pitcher, a faint glimmer of orange light making spindly arcanish marks along the surface, warming under Bull's hand. In the next second, there's steam lazily rising from the mouth of the pitcher.
Humour and ease recovered enough that he tips a wink at the qunari, Dorian sets about cleaning himself, movements precise and neat, as if flagrant uses of magic in casual proximity happen all the time. ]
You never know. I might yet surprise you.
[ Mr Heard It All. ]