The vampires assurance that drinks of an even greater potency existed momentarily see both silvery eyes of the Fae lift upwards in something almost akin to disbelief. This whiskey drink, as Malek had referred to it as, was by far the strongest substance Dorian had ever attempted to down. He was not wholly opposed to it, not truly, yet why the vampire seemed so very partial to it remained to be seen. It is something, Dorian thinks, might be better joined infrequently. The Fae man assured that were he to partake of this far to often he would be left struggling to remember much of anything and yet as he had anticipated, perhaps this was the very nature of the game Malek so enjoyed and for one night- perhaps Dorian should so enjoy it too. Could it really hurt? The other man's question in regards to exactly where he had come from sees the most subtle of shifts in Dorian's demeanour. Exactly how he had come to be here was something of a sore point for the man. Indeed much of his past was difficult to explain if only because so few possessed the immortality to comprehend a tale so old and long as Dorian's own and truly the man had grown tired with attempting to explain it when most of the time it seemed to earn nothing but riotous laughter despite it's serious truth. That Malek might have been deliberately seeking this information has not fully occurred to Dorian, at least, not in this current state. Affording people the knowledge of who he really was......was a rarity. At least not until after he had bedded them. The man having learned quickly enough that once such information was shared it tended to result in a myriad of unusual reactions from his modern-day companions. Yet alcohol, it seems, results in any such judgement becoming a little...hazy. A touch of a simper tracing his lips once more.

"There were witches too, they disliked my family- because of the Inquisition my bloodline led. Did they not have castle where you are from?"

Whether Malek's knowledge of history is good enough to understand he speaks of nothing less than the Spanish Inquisition remains to be seen. A single, royal family line responsible for much of that and yet once more such knowledge is perhaps limited to what Malek knows of such times as to whether or not it affords him any further knowledge on his Fae companion. Perhaps this man was not as old as Dorian had anticipated, in fact, where in the timeline of history Malek sat exactly remained something of a mystery to him and yet in truth Dorian found it hardly bothered him much either way. The vampire turns suddenly within his seat, his leg brushing against Dorian's own, the Fae's gaze drawn momentarily downward and yet he makes no effort to move the man's leg all the same. Dorian hardly finishing he was opposed to the vampire being at all within his space. It is within this moment that how tall the other man was seemed to become apparent to the somewhat inebriated Fae, Dorian commenting on it with perhaps more bluntness then manner would normally have dictated of him. The eruption of laughter from his companion is hardly minded, indeed Dorian enjoys this about the other man, a grin easily teasing at his features all the same before Malek's own response sees a chuckle rise within Dorian's throat.

"Ah, indeed, there is much use to a difference in heights for such things. I am pleased you understand this, mio amico (my friend). Far too many do not."

The Italian lyrics once more find his voice with effortlessly ease, one eye lifting upward in a momentary tease. Somewhat drunk or not there are some games Dorian knows well how to engage in. He remains, once more, entirely unconcerned with the vampires breech into his space as Malek leans forward, oblivious again to the increase in power as the man suggests they try something different. Experimentation, in so many things, is perhaps something of a weakness for the Fae King.

"I have never before been in one of these establishments and by that notion I presume there to be much within it I have not tried."

Well- it was entirely true. This was the first bar he had ever visited. Dorian merely watches with curiosity now as Malek demands something of the servant....bartender....whatever it was he was called, alcohol making it far to difficult to remember here and now. His empty glass is rather suddenly plucked from his hand, replaced a moment later with another drink, Malek assuring his grip on it was firm before letting go. Dorian half inclined to note the man had rather pleasant hands- if not a little cold and yet most vampires tended to be in his experience. Dorian shifts within his seat to face the man now, his knees resting purposefully against the vampires own, Malek's power evidently having resulting in the Fae more actively seeking his touch.

"A game? I enjoy games."

His head tilts slightly, a game sounding decidedly intriguing here and now beneath that fog of alcohol. His mind is perhaps a little slow in attempting to actually understand what the idea of the game was before Malek clinks his glass against his own and is suddenly counting.

"Wait, what does one do once we reach three?"

He barely has time to utter the question before Malek suddenly downs his shot, this counting evidently the symbol to begin the game as Dorian moves to rather boldly copy his companion. This.....this is not like the whiskey. This is far, far stronger. It nearly brings tears to his eyes! Dorian near left gasping in the wake of this demonic liquid!

"Yes, yes we are sure we are tasting the hell."

He manages to choke out at last, the heated sensation it leaves in its wake so unusually strange. Goodness the room was veritably spinning and yet for reasons he cannot quite fathom Dorian finds himself laughing, as if the entire thing is funny. Even despite the fact there appear to be several Malek's before him now. Dorian still very much aware of his knees resting against the vampire and the manner in which he is sitting so entierly close.

"Ah, mio amico, this is a dangerous game I think. This drink makes all things seem....very....oh I forget the words."

Dorian Aragona