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The first thing Bull notices is red hair.
A red as deep as the red of the flames shooting from the elf's staff, a red that seems to shine even in the dark clouds and biting rain of the Storm Coast. A red as rich as the red of freshly spilt blood as it pools in thick, dense puddles on the ground. A red as appealing as the red of a fresh, crisp apple, newly harvested and sitting on the table waiting to be devoured after a long day of fighting.
Or maybe he's just imagining all that and waxing poetic like a damned idiot during the middle of a battle. Regardless, the Iron Bull has a thing for redheads, and this newcomer has certainly caught his attention.
Around him, his Chargers are giving it their all, clashing against the rogue Tevinters who had dared cross them. He's pleased to see their enemy falling swiftly to sword and shield and bow while his own men stand steadfast and strong. The new addition of the red-haired mage and his companions--another elf, bald as an egg, a dwarf with enough chest hair to supply wigs to Orlais for years, and a stern looking female warrior-- are proving a valuable asset as well, taking down their fair share of assailants. Bull cuts a path through the skirmish so he ends up standing beside Redhead on the outskirts of the fight, giving him a cocky smirk and a waggle of his eyebrow as he forgoes use of his weapon and simply punches a charging zealot full in the face.
"Great day for a beachside stroll, isn't it?" He yells across the noise of battle. The elven mage spares him a quick glance, and Bull even catches the hint of a smile crooking up the corners of his pale pink lips as he shoots off another ball of fire. That's enough of a win for the Qunari in that moment; with a triumphant whoop he charges back into the thick of things with a wide grin plastered on his face.
Krem, fighting nearby, glances between his Boss and the elf and rolls his eyes with a sigh.
Later, when the battle is done and the Tevinters have been stilled forever, Bull is seated on a small outcropping of salt-stained rocks, wiping the blood from his axe and eyeing Redhead where he and his group are over talking to Krem. He'd sent the dark-haired Charger to the Inquisition to seek out someone Bull could discuss joining with, and Krem had returned with a positive report and the reassurance that he'd found someone who would come. He'd failed to mention, however, that that someone was a redhead. A beautiful redhead, at that, with delicate features and big caramel eyes. And that, in Bull's opinion, is vital information.
He watches as Redhead and Krem talk for a moment longer; Krem nods over towards where he's sitting and the mage turns to look at him. Bull sits up a bit straighter and smiles wide as the young man approaches him. "You did a good bit of fighting back there," the elf says as way of greeting, returning the smile with a small one of his own. "You and your company. The Chargers, correct?"
"Damn right. You won't find a finer group of men in all of Thedas." Bull pats a spot of relatively dry rock beside him and, with a soft word of thanks, the elf takes a seat, all graceful and easy movements. Like a dancer. Bull watches as one slim leg crosses over the other and pale hands curl together. "So. We're to talk business," he rumbles. "First though, how about some introductions? I'm the Iron Bull, though I'm sure you'd figured that one out by now." He winks at his slight companion with his good eye.
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Iron Bull. You may call me Lavellan. My companions are Varric, Solas, and Cassandra." He points a slim finger at each in turn and Bull nods in understanding. "We're here on behalf of the Inquisition. Your Charger, Krem, spoke very highly of you and your skills. Skills the Inquisition could desperately use, if I may speak plainly."
"Plainly's the only way I like to speak," Bull says with a grunt. "No need to pussyfoot around and hide what you really mean behind fancy words. Better to just put it out in the open and be done with it. So, that being said, I want in. Me and the Chargers. We want to join the Inquisition. You'll be paying a hefty price for us, but we're more than worth it. I'll work out the finer details with Josephine." Lavellan looks surprised at the mention of the ambassador's name; Bull gives him a wink. "I did my research. Though I don't know nearly enough about you as I'd like." The way in which he says that has the young mage blushing ever so slightly. The color is appealing to Bull, and he lazily wonders if this cute thing blushes in bed, too. He's determined to find out.
They spend the better part of an hour discussing the logistics of the arrangement. Bull fills Lavellan in on his connections with the Ben-Hassrath and the obligations he still holds to both the spies and the Qun. The elf seems to accept his explanation fairly readily, with the understanding that the information Bull will be sending back in his reports won't threaten the integrity of the Inquisition's plans or intel. After all, as the Qunari states, the Breach is the real threat, looming over all the inhabitants of Thedas. There's no time to be sabotaging the one group who seems keen on putting things right.
By the time they're ready to part ways--Bull and his Chargers have to gather their things up and dispose of the mess on the beach before they can journey to Haven-- Bull finds that he likes the redhaired kid. Lavellan is bright and wise beyond his tender young age, diplomatic in his speech and possessed of the cutest damned laugh Bull has heard in years. He's curious as to what the mage is like when placed in a more casual setting, where he doesn't have to act as the Inquisition's voice and can instead just be Lavellan. One day soon, hopefully, he'll find out.
As Lavellan is gathering his companions and preparing for the journey back to Haven, Krem is shooting Bull meaningful looks that the Qunari reaver pointedly ignores. "Well, I look forward to working with you and your Chargers, the Iron Bull," Lavellan says with a smile as he holds out a slim, pale hand for a shake.
"Just call me Bull," he replies with a deep chuckle, catching the elf's hand in his own and bending down to press a kiss to the back of it. Just to test the waters. And the waters, apparently, are more than fine; that heat flares up on Lavellan's face again in the most pleasant way, and the poor thing seems a bit flustered. The dwarf--Varric, Bull remembers-- gives a hearty laugh and claps a hand onto Lavellan's back.
"C'mon, Smiley. We need to get back to Haven and report this in. No time to be making googly eyes now. Save that for later."
Bull is grinning as Lavellan nods and stutters out one final goodbye before turning and hurrying away, his companions following with varied looks of amusement on their faces.
"So, we're part of the Inquisition now, huh?" Krem steps up beside Bull as they watch the little group grow smaller and smaller in the distance. "Good cause, that. Fighting demons and the Breach. Glad to see you're wholly focused on it. Noooo distractions whatsoever, eh, Boss?" There's a smile on Krem's face as he crosses his arms over his chest and nudges at Bull's side with his elbow.
Bull scowls at the teasing and, in a flash, catches Krem in a headlock. "No distractions at all!" He bellows, rubbing his knuckles across Krem's head and mussing up his dark hair as the man struggles against the hold and the noogies.
"Ah! Boss, c'mon! I didn't choose him just cause of his hair! Augh, ya big brute! I hope he sees this! Hope he sees you're a damned brute!"
Bull lifts Krem straight off the ground in a tight hug and laughs, images of Lavellan's hair as mussed and disheveled as Krem's flashing through his mind.
Yup. No distractions at all.