Despite the rudeness, Bull laughs, a booming chuckle that settles into a broad grin. "Nobody actually gets names under the Qun. It's all genetic information for the breeding program, or your title once you're assigned work, or a nickname between friends."

He reaches up, taps one of the thick horns sprouting sideways out his head. "Called myself the Iron Bull when I got sent South. 'Cause of these. Well, mostly." He winks at her, though it's not really flirtation with intent. (Also, "winking" for Bull is closing his only good eye, but his expression conveys the intent.)