"This is the place you call Work? We did not anticipate this."

For several moments the Fae King remained content to eye the rather drab looking building, the steady thrum of music from within seeing his brows furrow slightly in no small measure of inquisitiveness. Samantha, however, seemed decidedly determined to block any view he might have had of the inside of the building- the Fae Queen seeming determined to allow him no further. Attempting to ask the woman exactly what was within the building seemed to result in little more than her assurance that it would hardly be of interest to him and that is was most assuredly 'woman's business'. That men so seemed to make up the majority of the patronage had hardly escaped the Fae's notice and yet for tonight at least he saw little need to argue with his companion- allowing her, at last, to direct him away from the building he had so taken to walking her too in the evening. Dorian paused only long enough to hand the woman his sword, assuring the girl he hardly needed it and that it would surely be of better use within her hands then his own before promising to return later in the evening to walk her home once more. It was with no small measure of reluctance that Dorian allowed himself to be shooed away, his often insatiable curiosity hardly content with this lack of knowledge and yet for this moment at least he was content to allow Samantha her secrets. He would find out later. Although what could possibly exist within such a drab building he hardly knew. No one seemed to appreciate architecture any longer.

If anything could be said for this modern world it was that the nightlife was decidedly different from that which he remembered and still- vastly different from his countries own. In fact, the night seemed to so spill all manner of beings onto the street in a way the day never quite seemed to manage- Dorian finding equal fascination in nearly every person whom passed him if only for the way in which they dressed, acted- even talked. It is not as it once was, so much lost over the years and indeed the man is not wholly sure it was for the better. Still, the ancient King had become almost used to navigating the city at night. Between Samantha's constant nightly shifts and his evenings with Sebastian the man had very near shifted to nocturnal himself- Dorian finding himself decidedly awake and entirely without Sebastian to entertain him this evening. It was, he supposed, necessary to allow the vampire some time to himself. The man turns easily down the next street, hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans. Dorian had, at last, developed some ability to simply blend with others upon the street- the road however, still provided the man with some level of anxiety. For several moments the silver of his gaze eyes that black strip and the cars that speed upon it, one hand lifting to run almost nervously through the brunette of his hair- the tips having become blonde from the sun before letting it fall back into place.

"Wretched things."

It is more a mutter to himself than any other, his frustration at the cars evidently clear, the Fae truly having no real knowledge as to how to get across the road to begin with. He could not, perhaps, deny the convenience of them and yet they were little more than unsightly nuisances from the outside. Dangerous, loud, speeding creatures! It is only after several moments of eyeing the traffic with discontent that his attention is suddenly drawn to the side, eyes widening slightly at the sight of a man whom had seemingly halted the cars- striding across the road and in front of them with seemingly little car. That the man had simply pressed a button, waited and crossed as the lights had changed remained entirely outside the King's knowledge to perceive- his interest for now so entirely upon this individual.

It takes but several strides to bring him towards the man, Dorian only now truly realising just how tall the man was and yet, in truth, this had become something of a trend. People of the modern day seeming to simply be taller by design then they had been within his own time and as such Dorian pays it little heed. As to, he pays little heed to the mere twinging of....something within himself that so seems to stir in response to this man's presence alone.

"Excuse me, Tall...Peasant Man. How is it you managed to stop the cars?"

Dorian gestures briefly to the road behind him now, the Fae oblivious entirely too how his own words might very well offend the man. Dorian, after all, is from an entirely different period of history, some social constructs still lost upon him- the man seeing no slight within his speech before he finds himself frowning slightly once more. There was a distinct feeling of.....discomfort about this man. A feeling most uneasy, one Dorian had not felt since his arrival within this city at the hands of the Hunters- awareness so suddenly seeming to afflict him.

"Ah, but perhaps it is not so terribly important, we might ask someone else...."

Dorian Aragona