[where they are, she assumes Bull knows. it's a world away from her own by far, and it would be easy to get lost in color, detail, the new clothes. the way it feels so truly like being far away, if there wasn't a mission. if there wasn't one person they were diving in to bring back back out, because they had promised. Dorian's safety is more important than getting wrapped up in beauty and the wonder of something new.

which means it doesn't matter how many odd looks they get, nor how many eyebrows raise when she takes the wine from him with a soft thanks. she might be able to blend a little better due to not being gray and huge, but that she's willingly associating with him is enough to be damning by association since she's a stranger. almost like home, then, and she hasn't forgotten how to move around a room like this.]

How do we borrow him away from that one?

[she means Felix, and intentionally, she lets her gaze linger on Dorian more than is socially tasteful, not bothering to hide it. he's probably used to being watched, but she's noting things - the ease in his posture, the style of his clothes - adding them up to conclusions.]

I suppose we can't simply waltz up and declare "hello, we've come from a reality where your life is at stake if you don't wake up," and thus steal him away for a little chat.

[mingling is more careful maneuvering to get closer. to observe, and strike when the iron was hot - or at least, when he's unoccupied.]