If he wants a read out of Bull, he's going to have his work cut out for him. He could sit here and sip his drink all night and not give a single tell, if that were the aim here. But Zevran's at least giving him the courtesy of being mostly transparent about what it is he wants.

He can appreciate that. Things down South tend to have steps, a build-up. There's a dance people feel the need to go through before getting down to business. This just happens to be a very truncated version.

And if he's honest, it wouldn't be the worst way to wind down from that trip to Orlais. That look turns considering as it flickers briefly over Zevran, one hand lifting to prop beneath his chin.

"That so." Bull snorts quietly. "You don't strike me as someone who's usually hard-up for company, yourself." It's not accusatory. Just curious. The elf doesn't know what he's signing up for here, not really, but he might just be game enough if he did.