[ If a necromancer did this, he was sick. That thought digs at him the entire way there as he ponders over what that means. Nothing good, all things considered. The waystation had shut down, and that never bodes well for anything.
He meets Bull at the Space Bar as soon as he can get there. Honestly, he needs a drink, too. Despite that he's been practically been thriving on alcohol the past few days. To say he's concerned is an understatement. Dorian doesn't bother with the ruse of wine for this. A tankard of whatever swill they have on tap will suffice. It can be had in larger quantities. As for The Bull? He looks like hell, and the concern only grows in his expression.
He sets down a pitcher of the same amber ale he has in his own glass in the middle of the table. An offering, of sorts. ]
no subject
He meets Bull at the Space Bar as soon as he can get there. Honestly, he needs a drink, too. Despite that he's been practically been thriving on alcohol the past few days. To say he's concerned is an understatement. Dorian doesn't bother with the ruse of wine for this. A tankard of whatever swill they have on tap will suffice. It can be had in larger quantities. As for The Bull? He looks like hell, and the concern only grows in his expression.
He sets down a pitcher of the same amber ale he has in his own glass in the middle of the table. An offering, of sorts. ]