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Bull was still bantering with Dorian in the bathroom. Who was still naked and only covered in a blanket. The sound of Cyril's voice caught his attention and he chuckled a bit.

"I don't know if you and I have the same Inquisitor but he's here."

He shifted where he was sitting to rest an arm on one of his knees before calling out to the other room.

"Hey. Got Dorian in here. He could probably use coffee since you're making some." Because of course he knew where Cyril was going without even being in that room with him. It was a gift.

Dorian had some interaction with this Inquisitor, enough to know that he was the Inquisitor and that there was a Dorian where this Inquisitor was from as well so in some capacity they knew one another. He was also aware that he and this other Dorian were not too dissimilar and therefore he should present himself accordingly...and that's how it was.

"You didn't tell me the Inquisitor was the person you were..." not like it came up in conversation, even though they kind of skimmed over Bull sharing his space, he might have said with whom, but would that have been any fun. Probably not. It didn't stop him from looking mutinous.

"Wait, wait..."Dorian said trying to peel out of the bathroom, looking very much like a shade demon, hunched over with a blanket pulled over his head. He lacked the same gliding prowl of a shade, his movement was more like a stuttering, drunken lurch for thbe bedroom to find his clothing. It was an akward situation trying to hold the blanket up while dunking his head into his shirt, more awkward still was the fact that he was trying to go through the arm and not the collar...easy to do when you wore side boob clothing.

It was a valiant effort for a man who still felt like he'd been tossed around by a bogfisher and all the while select, token phrases could be heard coming from his general direction, a murmuring of "vishante kaffas."

"You were pretty wasted so you didn't ask."

Getting up, he followed after the hungover mage, leaning against the door frame. Sure he could help him out buuuuut this was actually more entertaining. Besides, a taste of humility was pretty good for Dorian. If you asked Bull.

He chuckled a bit.

"He's not going to care if you're naked or not, Dorian."

Not that that was going to stop the prissy mage from wanting to be presentable. Which was more hilarious but that wasn't really the point. Obviously.

"Likely...excuse..." Dorian's voice was muffled because he was gagging his mouth on the sleeve of his shirt trying to figure out why this was not working until he got the idea that he'd gotten the wrong hole. Fortunately, this was getting dressed and not having sex for that very reason.

Dorian's frustration was palpable and it didn't help that Bull was chuckling at him, but he finally managed to stuff his head through the proper opening, leaving the serpent clasps alone because he didn't think he had time for all of that. He dispensed with the undergarments and grabbed his leathers immediately.

"How comforting..." and unhelpful, you're very unhelpful, and these pants were unhelpful as well...Dorian loved accentuating materials any other day, but it was not conducive to getting dressed quickly and leather loved pulling. Wheat made it worse was standing up and trying to get his pants on, it was like watching a two-year-old getting dressed. After a moment he threw himself on the bed and went for the laying down technique. When in doubt.

He had had to arch himself up a bit because as much as it was a gift to have a shapely ass, it was also an obstacle at this moment in his life. Digging his heels into the edge of the bed he levered himself and with a triumphant shout his pants were on. Of course, laces were his next problem, but one victory at a time

Hearing that it's Dorian almost made Cyril go into the room, but then Bull said to get the coffee going so Cyril chose to do that instead. Still, there's a part of him itching to see his friend again.

Making the coffee tempered some of that excitement. He realized he wasn't sure which Dorian this was. It could be the man returning from being away from this world, it could be the man from the Thedas he and Bull share, or it could be an entirely new man, one who recognized Bull but would see him as a complete stranger.

Having Bull know him had been a treasure, he shouldn't expect it of everyone. At least by focusing on making the coffee and making sure they have sugar and milk gave him time to calm his expectations.

Still, he was looking forward to seeing that handsome mustached face again and he was really curious what he and Bull had been doing the night before.

What a damn show. Bull watched the mage semi-fail at putting on clothes from where he was leaning. Though, he had to admit, it gave a nice view of that shapely ass. One he wouldn't mind thrusting into sometime.

A thought for later.

Pushing away from the wall, he walked over to him and actually reached out to smooth his hair down. "Yeah, you're pretty again. Come on. You're gonna want that coffee."

Nodding, he led the way out to the other room where he stopped to give Cyril a quick kiss before plopping his ass into a chair. He looked thoroughly pleased with himself as he waited for the mage to come stumbling in next.

"Nice arm," he said to the little Elf.

And that was Dorian trying to put his clothes on, fortunately, he didn't have to take them off and he would not have been coordinated enough to even attempt it. He was dressed and laced up now, though he was far from immaculate or even as clean as he liked to be, but he'd have to do the walk of shame at some point and it wasn't even the good walk of shame. Bull smoothing his hair back was...unexpected and it was an improvement, but it was still a wavy, deflated mess.

Grabbing his boots and armor he plodded along carefully, he still wasn't at full capacity and it was early for Dorian so...along with a dull throbbing that was threatening to become a fully realized headache he was grateful for the coffee. He took a moment to observe the exchange between Bull and the Inquisitor with a raised eyebrow, more curious than anything before doing his best to properly greet the elf. Unfortunately, gentlemanly courtesies were out the window, considering the situation and his hands and arms preoccupied.

"Inquisitor Lavellan, yes?" meaning he was the same Dorian from before and remembered that they had spoken a few times, so not a total stranger to him. He inclined his head politely before finding a seat and depositing his armor and boots, "A distinct pleasure...as always."

The arm that Cyril was wearing wasn't the shiny chrome thing he was going to eventually had, instead it was a frame of one, meant to give his nerves time to adjust to the new input. He still kept forgetting to use it though, doing everything one-handed. When Bull entered and complimented him on it, though, he smiled and closed the fingers.

"Thank you, it will be much more impressive once it's done."

Then he directed all of his focus on Dorian and offered him a smile. "Yes, that's right! Welcome back?" he added a bit of a question there because he wasn't sure how Dorian felt about finding himself back in this world.

Dorian definitely looked like he'd had one hell of a night. It could be messily fixed sex hair. Or it could...just be bed head. Bull was busy smiling as he crossed his arms to enjoy the struggle the mage was having.

Hey, he brought it on himself. It was his own fault now that he was a show.

"So you're a different Dorian but you two have met before." Got it. He'd file that one away for later.

Dorian would argue that the champagne brought all of this about, one glass of champagne should not have had this much of an impact. Something he did not miss about this place was certainly its gift for sneaky food and alcoholic beverages, one of the few things that brought him satisfaction in life and this world had to ruin it.

Dorian returned the Inquisitor's smile with a lopsided one of his own, he didn't hate everything about this place, it was constantly surprising him with knowledge...and there were people, "thank you...it hasn't changed all that much from what I can recall...but that was two years ago."

For him anyway.

"My Inquisitor is Maxwell Trevelyan...so there's that," Dorian wasn't aware of any other glaring changes in their worlds other than the man or woman who would become Inquisitor, "...but we're not unacquainted. I take it you are both from the same Thedas?"

Cyril wanted to be distracted by talking about how he and Bull know each other, but he's distracted by Dorian saying he's been gone for two years.

"Two years? Then... how is Travelyan?" he asked with some worry on his face. He didn't know this man, but he knew the things he would have to face back home. It was troubling to think of anyone going through the things he had. "And how are you? I know there are some...trying times close by."

"Yeah. He's my Inquisitor."

Bull cleared that up right away before essentially stepping back to let Cyril as his questions. Honestly they weren't that important to him, he didn't know this other Inquisitor. Hadn't pledged loyalty to him. Still, it mattered to Cyril and that was enough for him to make sure he paid attention to what Dorian said in response.

Sipping his coffee, he leaned back in his chair and looked over at the mage.

"How is Trevelyan?" Dorian parroted, it was a question that was quite general and left a lot to unpack, to be honest, "physically he's not in too dissimilar a state as you, the anchor was threatening to kill him and Solas...ah...relieved him of that burden. He seems to be taking it well enough, but that's his way...deep-dyed, always with the humor and the brave front that he wears like full body armor, impervious. You can tell he's guarded, he has to be, but there's something there when he thinks no one is watching him anyway...but that's to be expected...I honestly don't know anything about the private carnage."

Dorian picks up his own coffee turning the mug in his hands, it's hot against his palms, he doesn't mind it though, it's comforting.

"Me?" Dorian now finally addressing the second part of Cyril's question, this is where he takes a sip of his own coffee, a bit of a distraction before looking up at the Inquisitor and offering him a lopsided grin, "no flies on me, Inquisitor, as usual. You knew though, it was the thing you were reluctant to talk about when last we spoke I suspect, the assassination of Lord Halward Pavus?"

Dorian took another sip of coffee, letting the conversation stew from there for a few moments if either of them had anything to contribute. It was done, really.

All of that sounds so painfully familiar. As Dorian spoke about his Inquisitor, Cyril felt himself frowning as he reached up to touch the spot where the new fake arm met with his skin.

"It was," he admitted after a moment of quiet. He wasn't sure how this Dorain felt about his father. He knew that when he had met Lord Pavus Dorian had stayed with him a bit. It had left him conflicted but at least gave him some closure. He didn't know what the human Inquisitor had done in his stead.

Still, it wasn't exactly talking for when you're hungover, so he didn't ask about it.

"And you do not have to call me Inquisitor. I've retired. Officially, anyway."

Bull pretended like he wasn't listening and just sipping his coffee. They both knew better. That was fine though, he wasn't expecting them to call him on it. Nor was he really planning on offering much commentary to this part. Just absorbing information and then taking the cue from Cyril.

Change the subject.

"I've come up with a lot of new names for him. None you probably would want to call him but he likes them when I say them."

Lighten the mood with some good old sex humor.

While Dorian did enjoy talking about himself, the less they had to discuss this aspect of his life, the better. There was no levity to no one's surprise he was too hungover to talk on things as serious as his deceased father and his new appointments, things they both probably knew something about anyway. It seems that while the Inquisitor of their worlds might be different the circumstances were not.

While in the middle of taking his sip of the hot beverage he'd been given Cyril suggested that he didn't have to call him the Inquisitor and then Bull injected and Dorian inhaled the beverage before he could even stop himself. More of a reflex than anything, it was hot, it went down the wrong way. He set the mug down immediately coughing and making a hand gesture that would say, no, you don't have to before he could choke the words out...which he finally managed to do, "no...no you uh...should have your secrets, yeah? Perfectly fine being in the dark with some things."

Including pet names.

When Dorian starts coughing, Cyril moves closer with some concern on his face. He knows it's just responding to Bull, but he still knows that feeling on inhaling something liquid is no fun.

"All right there?"

Bull looked over at Dorian as he just about snorted out coffee. The Qunari looked amused as hell as he watched him before grabbing a napkin and handing it over to him. He wasn't actually that bad of a guy. He just liked poking at Dorian to see those feathers ruffled.

Okay, so he did that a lot but that wasn't the point.

"We don't tend to keep that part secret. Pretty sure the neighbors could quote them off at this point."

"Fine...Fine..." Dorian said weakly at first but managed to come back with that all-important composure, his voice a little bit graveled like he's inhaled sand, but he took the napkin anyway with a strained thank you before attempting to get himself in order.

"Yes, I'm certain you keep your neighbors awake at night. I'm perfectly fine being left in the dark on that score," he didn't want to know, he really didn't want to know. And for a moment or two, he fidgeted with his coffee, the awkwardness of the situation not lost on him...though maybe it was needless. No one else seemed to be coming off as awkward, why should he? Perhaps it had to do with his dignity being entirely offset with this particular situation.

"Meat and potatoes, yes?" Dorian said coming out of his silence, "If you're wondering what happened anyway, I had one glass of incredibly potent champagne, I'm certain I did and said things that are...regrettable. Bull brought me here, put me to bed, I fetched up in your toilet and here we are. Glorious morning isn't it?"

By the tone of Dorian's voice, it didn't sound glorious, it sounded like he was on the verge of nursing a blinding headache.

"Dorian, any morning that allows me to see your handsome face is, in fact, very glorious," Cyril replies with a smile. "You haven't lost any dignity in my eyes. This place has a way of sneaking in drinks and snacks with strange effects. You've nothing to worry about here."

This might not be his Dorain but he still was a Dorian, and that meant that Cyril felt an odd sense of affection towards him. "Take all of the time you need to feel ready to face the public again."

"I saw his ass though. More than made up for it."

Bull couldn't resist throwing that out there. Sure they hadn't done a damn thing but he wasn't about to just ignore the fact that he'd seen a great bit of ass when Dorian had gone running to the bathroom. The mage might have been hurling everything in his body since the age of twelve but that ass was still a great view.

"They've got pills for the headache by the way."

Just in case Dorian wanted something like that.

"If anyone ever accuses you of having no taste Inqui-...Cyril, then they're about as useful to you as a fart in a shack," Dorian said grinning because of course, he's handsome, Dorian knows a compliment when he hears it, though he's much less prepared to deal with the fact that he hasn't lost his dignity. Surface compliments are one thing, compliments on his quality of manner and self have always been a more complicated issue. In Tevinter it's about as relevant and important as the length of your big toe.

Fortunately Bull has a way of derailing the more complex matters of his personality to his physical attributes.

"Ah, well my ass is the gift that keeps on giving," and he took another sip of his coffee, because what else needed to be said about that? Physically Dorian has his gifts, the only thing his parents had really given him that was worth much of anything at all.

"Oh, even hangover headaches? Just pop in a few pills and be about your day, marvelous!"

Naturally, anything that could alleviate his pains was worth exploring.

"The type of medicine they have here doesn't stop there," Cyril replied, though even just his arm is proof of that. Honestly, even a fraction of the things they had in this city would improve the lives of so many back home.

"I think we have some of those pills. In the bathroom maybe?" After all, painkillers came in handy for aftercare. "I'll go look.

If you want to show Bull that gift again now would be the time." He teased as he got up to go check.

"Yeah. Behind the mirror."

Handy thing really. A nice secret place for pills and stuff behind the mirror. Honestly Bull was loving a lot of the stuff he was running into in this place but that was another thing entirely.

Finishing up his coffee, he rolled his head over to look at Dorian.

"I mean, he's right. If you wanted to show that gift off again then I'm not complaining."

At the suggestion that he show off his assets again, Dorian does his patented half-laugh half-sigh into his coffee mug before taking a bracing sip and then offering Bull a weak grin. He's not as robust as he normally is while in the throes of a hangover.

"I'd love to, but the effort at this point is strenuous," and he's still not properly dressed the way he'd normally be. He can't see himself making the effort to peel himself back out of his clothing only to put them on again, "Press me again when I'm not quite so indisposed and can manage it without potentially falling on my face...that would be a tragedy."

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