Bull huffs a laugh and, were he less practiced, he might have blushed. Instead, he smiles at Dorian, fond and knowing. "My best," he rumbles quietly.

Dorian will never see his worst. Not if Bull can help it. He wanted to feel Dorian's skin and resisted that, contenting himself with the way the mage feels tucked against his side. He considers a moment, absently listening to the tamassran lecturing the children.

"Do you want to meet them?" he asks, giving a faint nod toward the gaggle of children. They've all stopped writing and look particularly eager: the lesson is drawing to a close.