[ Funny how quick that silver tongue fails him. Observing the elf tells him all he needs to know, answers or not, and Bull studies him openly for a moment. This is a man who's used to running, who's used to dancing away from his past, from responsibility or commitment, before it can leash him.

But sometimes it takes a leash to feel truly unrestricted, and bonds of a physical nature to be free to struggle, without consequence. Bull knows that better than most. With a huff, Bull reaches for the buckle on his shoulder harness, the slither of leather through metal oddly loud in the close quarters of the room. ]

Alright. We'll make it simple. Whatever's outside this room? It doesn't get to come in here. You're safe. I'm not going to hurt you, not without your permission.

[ Keeps it on the table. Depending on how things go. ]

You decide you've had enough, you say 'katoh'. We'll stop. No questions asked. Nod if you're good with that.

[ It's a choice, still. He can walk any time he wants, but it's coached as a command. Easy to follow. Easy to just hand over the reins like he's aching to do. Probably not what Zevran was likely expecting when he came to him, but...

Those muscled shoulders stretch as the leather falls heavily to the ground, and Bull waits patiently for that affirmative he knows will come. ]