The notion that Malek had been 'more of a peasant' momentarily sees Dorian frown in some contemplation of the words. The man before him hardly seemed like a peasant, indeed he was sufficiently more clean, tidy and well-presented then the peasants he remembered. More attractive than most too. Though truly, he supposed, his ability to actually perceive the social class of anyone had become decidedly diminished. The modern day seemed to render most people at least semi-respectable and as such Dorian had struggled to place most of the beings he saw. Without the distinction in dress, company or language to define one class from another the Fae had simply come to assume that most were of a middle-class standing. How much the status Malek had once held seemed to deter him however, remained to be seen. It had been important- once. Yet the vampire had seemingly made something of himself since and in this knowledge Dorian remains content. Besides- he was not above entertaining the company of peasants all the same. Even if only in secret. It is, for now at least, something of a moot point he thinks- else the alcohol seems determined to assure it is. Dorian merely waves his hand slightly, assuring Malek his peasant status was hardly of concern.

Another chuckle rises readily to his lips at the tease the man offers, Dorian hardly above the nature of such things, such games of delight to the man when played well and yet in the wake of the alcohol with which he is presented all such thoughts seem to falter. The utter burning of the drink all his mind seems to fixate upon. So powerful! Such a drink would have done more than well within his day. It was the sort of liquor, he thinks, that might be inclined to blur a mans mind entirely. The very sort that swept away any trouble, worry or concern with each and every mouthful. Such things, perhaps, had rarely plagued Dorian himself yet there was those he knew of, had known off, that would relish in such a thing as this. For Dorian it is merely a fanciful experience, the Fae surely having underestimated the drinks potency all the same, the room positively spinning as Malek slaps him upon the back in an effort to relieve the sting of it within his throat. His mind felt....hazy. It had been years, hundreds of years since he had been drunk, his tolerance for drinks such as this decidedly low already and yet Dorian remained too entirely under the spell of it to actually question the sense of it any longer. He enjoys this company. It is light, easy, Malek a sufficiently pleasing enough individual to warrant his attention as so few were. Dorian still entirely oblivious to the power of the vampire over him that perhaps inclined some of this affection towards him.

His exquisite silver gaze drifts suddenly downward, feeling the man's hand upon his leg, such an action coaxing a simper from the Fae all the same. Ah, but this is a game Dorian knows all too well and hardly on he is opposed to playing. Indeed Dorian finds himself opposed to...surprisingly little in his current state of mind, the tone of the other man's voice a thorough distraction now. He smiles once more at the words, leaning his elbow easily atop the bar, head resting atop his hand in a decidedly languorous gesture. His own free hand moves abruptly to grace the one that rests against his legs, finger tips tracing near feather light across Malek's own hand a moment as if he finds some fascination in the cooler skin of the man.

"Do you desire to know?"

One eye lifts ever so slightly, gaze at last drawn away from the man's hand and towards his own gaze at last, Dorian sighing softly- the sound holding a ready contentment. That same easy simper rests upon his eternally youthful features as Malek hands him yet another drink. The vampire clinks the glass against his own, Dorian downing this shot with a newly acquired ease.

"I find those I like, I charm them...."

His hand lifts now, easily brushing aside a few strands of Malek's hair from his face, allowing his fingers to graze the mans cheek as he does, tucking it loosely behind the vampire's ear in a gesture almost affectionate- if not entierly playful in nature.

"...and I enjoy them for the evening. I show them how it can be."

His words are very near a lingering promise, one aimed entierly at teasing the vampire before Dorian leans abruptly away with a chuckle.

"I dislike being alone, in truth."

It is far more honest then he would surely ever have been without the flood of alcohol in his system, Dorian perhaps not entirely aware of his words all the same though they were surely the truth. Even if Dorian rarely admitted such a thing to himself.

Dorian Aragona