"I dunno," he murmurs consideringly, long horns slanted. "I kinda like them."

While Bull isn't quite cruel enough to think he won't ever let Dorian live down this unprecedented display, he is at least gonna enjoy it while it lasts. Though each compliment kicks up a dust-storm of emotion: it's not like he's had anyone say this shit to him
before, so there's a reflexive cringe as well as pleased embarrassment, concern for Dorian warring with the mild sadism that has its claws in their relationship.

"I'm coming," he says, long legs catching up with and then keeping ups with Dorian easily, walking side by side to find somewhere slightly more private than standing in the desert sun. Maybe the city. "Don't stop now, though. Tell me more about how besotted you are."