[And that is all he's going to say on that, and he shook his head at the latter.]
Yeah, and if we'd been psychic, we could have seen Corypheus was coming before the Templars ever crossed the mountains and maybe all the innocent people in Haven wouldn't have died, either. Are you saying you went everywhere with her? All the time? You can think about maybes all night, Dorian, but the fact of the matter is she went to the waystation. Alone. Just like I did. Maybe she wanted a cheap soda, who knows? You didn't send the crazy undead there, and she wasn't the only one who didn't walk off that station, either. It's not. Your. Fault.
It's not that different, either. No one knew that would happen. [He scoffs.] Hell, I don't think anyone really knows what did happen. I get you wish whatever you said to her hadn't been the last thing, but...sometimes...shit happens, and people die, and you never get to change how. All you can do is learn from it. Don't let it happen again.
[And then they were at the shuttles.]
Your place or mine? My vote's for yours. It's bigger.
We should at the very least find the cause to ensure it doesn't happen again.
[ He can't guarantee that it won't happen again, though it likely won't happen with Leilani again. He knows his tongue gets him into trouble, among other things. ]
Mine will suffice. [ It will be nice to have favorable company, at least. ]
Why would you ever think about something other than me?
[ He knows exactly what Bull means, but he reserves the right to be a bit of a shit right now, also flirting is a good buffer between him and feelings. He hums in agreement about the quality of their liquor. ]
[Years of Ben-Hassrath training are all that keep Bull from actually looking surprised at Dorian's flirting. All he'd ever done before was abjectly deny it. Still, Bull was no stranger to flirting, either, and instead of surprise, he smirks and nods, conceding Dorian's point.]
You think I can't think about you and other shit at the same time? If you're that distracting, you're going to have to prove it.
[ Oh, a challenge, was it? He can certainly be distracting, but perhaps now is not the time for that particular form of distraction. Bull needed someone to talk to. Someone to help process all that shit that went down.. Maybe he can help Dorian make sense of it, too.
Dorian leads them down the hall and to his room once more. It feels a bit more welcoming than sitting in the cramped kitchen. It will be more private, as well. Not the greatest subject matter to be discussing in the open. It's far too vulnerable. ]
[Talking isn't something Bull normally wants to do when it's bad things. Feelings in general, sure, but did he want to talk about this? With Dorian? Now? After dropping the bombshell that Leilani was dead? Not really. He hadn't even included he'd been the one to kill her. He wasn't planning on it, either.
Dorian's bedroom was actually familiar, and taking a seat on that bed was nice. He hadn't actually realized how weary his bones were until they were on something comfortable. Shit.]
[ He shoulders his grief as best he can until the door to his room closes and they're alone. Only then does he allow his shoulders to drop as he sits on the steamer trunk at the end of his bed. Dorian is tired- in body and heart, but it's a comfort that he's in familiar company. Maker, he needs another drink. ]
Do you intend to share, or are you having a one-person party over there?
[If Dorian doesn't like this, he can just deal with the fact that he opened himself up for it. The Bull had bought two bottles, but, while he did hold one out, he didn't move any closer.]
Or, you know, you could come over here and we could party together.
[ While he's not too keen on closing the respectable distance between them, Dorian's hand itches to hold the bottle. To have something he knows he can rely on until he gets absolutely, irresponsibly drunk. Scooting up, Dorian does move to the bed to sit next to Bull. Closer to the alcohol, he tells himself.
Which he promptly takes from Bull, opens, and takes a hearty drink despite the burn in his throat. ]
[See, there's a reason Bull bought more than one bottle because he laughs while he's opening the other one, but it's an appreciative laugh. It's a laugh borne of amusement at something real, normal, and not the least bit completely fucked.]
Nice! [And he raises his own bottle in a sort of...mock toast.] To getting totally fucked up and not thinking about fucking zombies.
[and he takes a really healthy hit of his own bottle, and exhales hard at the burn going down. That was good. That was very good.]
[ Dorian has to clear his throat from the burn, his eyes watering, but he doesn't regret the strength nor the quantity. It's helping to process everything Bull's told him. The more numb he is, the better it will be later on. Tomorrow, he may hate himself, but that is a problem for future Dorian. ]
Not thinking about zombies, indeed. [ His voice is a bit raspy from the drink, but it doesn't stop him from having another. Here is to not thinking about how his best friend died and he wasn't there. Here is to being utterly useless in a situation that could have benefited from his expertise. ]
[ Not that he wanted to. He's sure Bull went on a whim, and regretted it. Continues to regret it, if their current conversation is anything worth mentioning. ]
[The only response Bull offered to the comment was a nod at first. He could try to play it off, pretend it was awesome how many he killed, but...they'd been people...innocent travelers just like them. It'd only been a day.]
...wildfires spread slower than...whatever that was.
[ Dorian occupies himself by taking another drink, composing in his head what he is going to say. There are many things he wants to ask, all for the sake of knowing, but his search for knowledge can be a bit crass. ]
What do you believe caused it? It couldn't possibly have been these 'Atroma' we've heard so much about?
[And he really hasn't been trying to puzzle it out, Dorian.]
Look. All I know is this: if they bite you, you die. Then you get back up and join the pack. I mean... [He looked thoughtfully at his bottle before knocking it back again, growling out a breath afterward. Surely this shit would kick in soon, right?]
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[And that is all he's going to say on that, and he shook his head at the latter.]
Yeah, and if we'd been psychic, we could have seen Corypheus was coming before the Templars ever crossed the mountains and maybe all the innocent people in Haven wouldn't have died, either. Are you saying you went everywhere with her? All the time? You can think about maybes all night, Dorian, but the fact of the matter is she went to the waystation. Alone. Just like I did. Maybe she wanted a cheap soda, who knows? You didn't send the crazy undead there, and she wasn't the only one who didn't walk off that station, either. It's not. Your. Fault.
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That doesn't--!! [ Dorian squeezes the bridge of his nose, sighing. ] It's not quite the same thing, Bull.
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[And then they were at the shuttles.]
Your place or mine? My vote's for yours. It's bigger.
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[ He can't guarantee that it won't happen again, though it likely won't happen with Leilani again. He knows his tongue gets him into trouble, among other things. ]
Mine will suffice. [ It will be nice to have favorable company, at least. ]
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[He opens the hatch to his shuttle.] I'll follow you, I guess.
[Or maybe these things were programmed, who knows.]
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You say that as if we both won't fit.
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I'm not that big, but thanks. Aren't these things ship-specific?
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Do they go back on their own?
[Most of the time, he just didn't think about the tech. Then he did...and it got weird.]
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I'm thinking about something more than you. [A scoff.] Shit, I'm glad I bought the hard stuff.
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[ He knows exactly what Bull means, but he reserves the right to be a bit of a shit right now, also flirting is a good buffer between him and feelings. He hums in agreement about the quality of their liquor. ]
Quite.
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You think I can't think about you and other shit at the same time? If you're that distracting, you're going to have to prove it.
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Dorian leads them down the hall and to his room once more. It feels a bit more welcoming than sitting in the cramped kitchen. It will be more private, as well. Not the greatest subject matter to be discussing in the open. It's far too vulnerable. ]
Perhaps I'll take you up on that at another time.
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Dorian's bedroom was actually familiar, and taking a seat on that bed was nice. He hadn't actually realized how weary his bones were until they were on something comfortable. Shit.]
Yeah? No time like the present, right?
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[ He shoulders his grief as best he can until the door to his room closes and they're alone. Only then does he allow his shoulders to drop as he sits on the steamer trunk at the end of his bed. Dorian is tired- in body and heart, but it's a comfort that he's in familiar company. Maker, he needs another drink. ]
Do you intend to share, or are you having a one-person party over there?
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Or, you know, you could come over here and we could party together.
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Which he promptly takes from Bull, opens, and takes a hearty drink despite the burn in his throat. ]
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Nice! [And he raises his own bottle in a sort of...mock toast.] To getting totally fucked up and not thinking about fucking zombies.
[and he takes a really healthy hit of his own bottle, and exhales hard at the burn going down. That was good. That was very good.]
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Not thinking about zombies, indeed. [ His voice is a bit raspy from the drink, but it doesn't stop him from having another. Here is to not thinking about how his best friend died and he wasn't there. Here is to being utterly useless in a situation that could have benefited from his expertise. ]
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You know, I only went out there for horn balm. [He shook his head slightly and eyed the bottle again before taking another, shorter, pull from it.
And clearing his throat again.]
Didn't even find any.
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[ Not that he wanted to. He's sure Bull went on a whim, and regretted it. Continues to regret it, if their current conversation is anything worth mentioning. ]
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...wildfires spread slower than...whatever that was.
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What do you believe caused it? It couldn't possibly have been these 'Atroma' we've heard so much about?
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[And he really hasn't been trying to puzzle it out, Dorian.]
Look. All I know is this: if they bite you, you die. Then you get back up and join the pack. I mean... [He looked thoughtfully at his bottle before knocking it back again, growling out a breath afterward. Surely this shit would kick in soon, right?]
I guess somebody had to start it, right?
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