The default answer burns on his tongue- something deeply reflexive that has no place with Bull.

Crows do not have friends.

But he is no Crow. He has not been a crow in years but being there, surrounded by it, at the mercy of every tool they had to break him...It reminds him too much of his training, of learning to endure. That he can swallow down like bile and let it rest.

Bull gave his word and kept it. This is surprising but admirable. But that he considers him people- that wrings a ragged half laugh from him, one that is faintly bitter. "And I am one of your people, now?"