Bull swings him around and then, with a hand on his ass, hauls him close to be seated comfortably on one cocked hip. The kiss that follows both Dorian's protestations and invitations is as inevitable as the sun rising, but it's not actually sheet-shredding passion. A light press, lingering, tense at first but relaxing into it as the reassurance of being together again finally calms him.

Then it's back to hugging the crap out of each other. He knows that if Dorian has been here longer than five minutes he doesn't really have to explain why: unlike fetch quests, he didn't know how far apart they were or if they would ever actually see each other again. Bull plays at independence, but the Inquisition and the Chargers and Dorian are all more important to him than he can adequately convey, and he's glad he has the stability of at least one of those things in this brave new world.

"Okay," he says, once he's got all that out of his system (or enough of it, at any rate). His grip loosens, but he still doesn't actually put Dorian down. "That's enough of that. Too many kids around." We're in a PG rated game now, Dorian!! But just you wait until they get some privacy, his look says. (Speaking of; he's eyepatchless. Dorian is probably the only person who might have even an inkling of how tough that's been for him so far, since the ruination of his face is just about the only part of his body he gets self conscious and shy about.)