This man was a distinctly unusual individual, Dorian is assured. Though whether such an odd demeanour was merely the man's natural state or indeed something to do with the notion of his Hunter species the Fae hardly knew. The Hunter's question seeming to do little more other than perplex the King with its bluntness. To ask one whether one had been attacked, after all, was hardly within the realms of acceptable social decorum and yet truly Dorian was beginning to give up entirely on the belief that anyone outside of Sebastian or perhaps even Troy held any sense of how to act in any situation. It was as if people had simply forgotten over time and that the notion of it, now, was laughable to them. It was a shame really. Perhaps many of his own social traditions were dull to an extent, difficult to uphold and constrictive in the least yet there were some Dorian so sorely missed all the same. No longer did men escort women across the street or attempt to court them with small gestures and gentle touches that so left a man wanting more and the woman dreaming of the day in which he might return to walk out with her again. People on the street no longer spoke of the pleasantness of the day or the pleasure of the evening. They hurried. All the time they hurried. Dorian still unable to fully grasp this lifestyle when he himself was so used to, well, the simple pleasure of time and the very knowledge that no one hurried a King in any sense of the word.

The way in which the Hunter moved to run his fingers through his hair is astutely observed, Dorian nothing if not observant of those often missed details about a person, the man seeming to momentarily struggle with something before Dorian's own reply seems to result in the fellow befit of a veritable laughing fit. Surprise so fills those silver eyes as the before him very near doubles over, one eye lifting slightly at just what the man was doing, the Fae King so entirely assured he had hardly made one of these...jokes as they were called. He is quite sure his opinion on another's shirt has never resulted in this reaction and indeed for several moments still Dorian merely stares blankly towards the man. At least until it seems he remembers some measure of class, noting the honour it was to have Dorian so notices his eyes. This, in the least, seeming to appease the Fae King if only slightly, his own head nodding in assurance.

"Well, they are pleasant."

Dorian was often so entirely bold when it came to so informing others of exactly his opinion on them. After all, he had spent a lifetime existing within such a position that allowed him to voice any opinion without repercussion. The Hunter's attempt to explain just exactly what he had meant however sees one hand lift to brush across those still-healing bite wounds upon his neck, his clothing concealing several others that so patterned his body. Dorian for the first time allowing his gaze to narrow ever so slightly in wariness of this Hunter's intentions.

"They are."

Dorian offers willingly enough, hardly seeing any way in which he could so deny exactly what had left those perfectly symmetrical wounds as he seems to further contemplate the words the man offers. The faintest of frowns so lingers upon his eternally-youthful features at the Hunter's words and this idea that he might so desire to help were it so Dorian had been attacked. Both Samantha and Raven had assured him of the roles of Hunters in this world, the very notion that this one might so set his sights upon his own lover was...horrendous to even consider, Dorian's own head shaking softly now as his gaze so met the Hunter's own.

"I am told it depends upon the vampire as to the feel of the bite, some I hear, bring nothing but pain and would hardly be enjoyable in any sense- these are the most common I think. In regards to myself though I do not require your assistance, I was not attacked, these were made entirely with consent."

He merely seeks to assure the Hunter that whatever services he might be content to offer were hardly needed here and too- offer him some of the knowledge Sebastian had so shared with him if only to so assist the man in understanding that not all such wounds came with pain ad Dorian himself was hardly distressed by them in any sense. The sudden introduction he is presented with however so quickly ensnare his attention, this mention of Duke, a title and rank he understood brining that glorious grin to his features once more. Ah, how the familiar so delighted him! Although why this Duke William was holding his hand towards him he hardly knew, the Fae staring towards it for several moments before extending his own to grasp as William seemed to desire, one eye lifting slightly at the shaking motion he was afforded. How odd.

"Will then, if you so prefer. We are Dorian V. Aragona, King of Naples, Sicily, Gerace, Santa Agata, Jerusalem and their associated kingdoms, Marquess in Arsena and Montalto. Though it seems perhaps that most are given to simply call me Dorian as my full name is very long and tiresome to say. So I think, perhaps, you may call me this too."

This, he thinks, is so entirely why it is orators were so hired as to announce his titles for him and save himself the effort. Here and now however he is content to dismiss the notion, releasing William's hand from his own. Despite the mans strangeness he was, Dorian has decided, not disagreeable and perhaps even pleasant company. The Fae turning slightly now to gesture towards the building he had come from not some moments ago. The Cats Meow. Perhaps Samantha would not tell him exactly what she did as this place of work, yet William might. Dorian a distinctly curious creature when he should choose to be.

"Will, do you know what that building is? The woman I live with goes there, she tells me, to work. Though she will not tell me what she does within. Do you happen to know?"

Dorian Aragona