He wraps his arms around the other man as Dorian rests against his chest. He strokes his fingers through the mage's dark hair, and he feels his chest tighten when he catches the achingly familiar scent of Dorian's pomade.

"Last time I talked to you, you were in Minrathous," he says quietly. Those sending crystals were a lifeline, a way to hear his lover's voice, and a way for Bull to offer support and affection in return.

Bull leans down to gently bump his head against Dorian's. A faint smile quirks his mouth.

"You were saying something about Maevaris." He lifts his head and cups Dorian's face, thumb stroking over his cheek.