Gorun nods with a faint smirk at Albali’s thanks once he’s healed.  “You keep us alive, we keep you alive.  It seems only fair to me,” he says, watching the argument across the room with something between amusement and disgust, and a small measure of surprise besides.  “Interesting,” he notes as an aside to Albali while they’re busy carrying on.  “Though it seems her mind spends all of its time in a stomach, be it her own or someone else’s, evidently his<span style="font-style: italic">doesn’t</span>spend all of its in his trousers.  I had genuinely thought otherwise.”  His voice is just loud enough to be overheard, the bull about as smooth as sandpaper in his attempt at subtly reminding them that they have other business to attend to first.<br/>Seeing as he’s closest to the drawers where the potion was being held — which stands to reason, since he’s currently digesting its former owner on his own bed — the bull rolls laboriously down to the floor to do a bit of ransacking.  “Agreed,” he puts in while doing so, “putting them in a pincer worked well enough this time that it would certainly seem a worthwhile tactic to try again.  ‘If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it,’ as they say.”  Once the loot has been gathered up, he gives his own belly — well on its way back to its normal size with the two inside thoroughly compacted by now — a quick couple of pats.  “Let’s get moving,” he says.