Dorian AragonaHis Royal Majesty

It did not take long, as Dorian suspected, for Dareios to arrive. His own silver hued gaze glanced away from the screen of that phone as he tucked the little device back into his pocket to eye that sleek car as it pulled up beside those ornate gates he stood outside. He could hardly help that grin that adorned his features at the sight of the other man. Dorian inclined to find Dareios a decidedly pleasant individual and one whom was nothing short of excellent company. He had looked forward to spending even a little of the evening in the fellow's presence, his intrigue in those antiques he so delighted in near as extensive as that curiosity he found in Dareios himself. His own head nodded politely in greeting to the man as he stepped from the car, that suggestion to remove themselves from that light rain before it became anything more extensive readily seized on by the Italian King.

"It is no bother, I hardly mind the wait, though I will be glad to be out of the rain. I am very pleased to see you again too."

He gestured lightly for Dareios to lead the way. Dorian moving to follow him through those gates and past that security detail that adorned them. How impressive that home was! The Monarch eyeing those detailed front doors with a clear intrigue as he trailed after the man and inside the warmth of that home. His own hands reached to unbutton his coat, his own scarf removed and hung neatly on that rack as Dareios declared that show room to be in the basement. Dorian affording him an almost quizzical look then. The basement? An explanation of that very thing followed a moment later. Dorian entirely assured he understood well how comforting that idea of home could be. That near knowing grin finding his lips all the same as he nodded once more.

"I think I understand that well. The busier I become, the more time I spend away from home and the more I find I miss it and yet- where once I missed my home in Italy I have become so very attached to my house in the Heights with Sebastian that I now consider that my home with far more fondness then I ever did my Palace. How long have you had this home? It is quite splendid."

Those accented lyrics fell smoothly from his lips. That near age-old manner of speaking still entirely pronounced within the Fae King as he inquired after that home. Dorian moving to follow Dareios once more towards those stairs that led downward. Sebastian, he was sure, would have taken a great delight in seeing such a home as this, Dorian assured he would tell his boyfriend off it the moment he arrived home. The Monarch pausing to glance briefly down that hall and towards the rest of the house before falling back into step behind the other man lest he appear at all impolite.

"Do you keep household staff?"

After all, it seemed rather a large home. Surely Dareios did not attend to it himself? Dorian from a time in which near any being of importance kept a small army of staff. A home without them decidedly foreign to the man. Yet too, whether or not Dareios lived alone was a curiosity that so seemed to settle within the Monarch then. Had he a wife? A girlfriend? Dorian shaking such thoughts from his mind as they reached that basement, the vampire flicking on those lights then to illuminate that large space. Dorian's eyes widening in a clear curiosity of those pieces that existed before him. The Fae, by nature, a terribly curious being. Those age-old pieces seizing his attention readily. Dorian already moving towards the first of those antique armoires, his fingers lifting to trace along that intricate pattern that adorned the wood. How he adored those pieces! That sudden suggesting of wine seeing his head lift, a simper finding his lips.

"I am Italian Dareios, we never turn down wine."

That soft chuckle echoed from within his throat then, the genuine good humour clear as his attention drifted to that decorative end table that rested beside that first piece.

"How old is this? I like these details. We do not have anything like this in Italy. Where ever did you get it? Ah, forgive my questions. I get a little carried away sometimes. I spent so long away from the world I fear I missed several centuries and all that came with them. These antiques, for me, all appear so new."