"Will this take terribly long, Charles?"

The Italian Monarch leaned easily against the hood of that sleek black town car, his silver grey gaze turned down toward his manservant as the Were fumbled with those tools arranged about him as he knelt beside that flat tyre. A little time your Majesty, yes. Dorian allowed that soft sigh to fall from his lips once more. He had never before seen a flat tyre, the mechanics of it decidedly curious to him and yet such curiosity was distinctly short lived when it became apparent they would not at all be able to travel until it was repaired. This evening had already been trying. His meeting with the Mayor and several visiting diplomats had not at all gone poorly and yet it had been rather dull and run decidedly long. He had left for those meetings just before the sun had set, leaving Sebastian to sleep and with that promise he would hardly be more than a few hours and yet it was near the middle of the night and he still had not returned home! How forward he was looking to the warmth of his house and the comfort of his chair and the tea Sebastian would surely have made. Dorian distinctly loath to be away from his husband for any great length of time, that honeymoon they had returned from only several weeks ago surely having spoiled him for both work and that lack off his lover. Now the car had incurred some sort of flattened tyre and he was once more forced to wait. Still, he supposed, there was nothing to be done for it and Charles was hardly to blame.

Dorian had, for several moments, considered offering his assistance and yet the near ancient Fae held no knowledge off cars at all nor did he truly desire to get....whatever that was Charles seemed to be getting all over his hands on his own. Why on earth anyone would choose to take up such a profession God only knew. The Fae King reached easily within the pocket of his dress pants then, that phone fished from within it before the screen was coaxed into life. His fingers taped easily at those keys, that message to Sebastian quickly sent to assure the vampire he was entirely safe and that he would be considerably later than anticipated given that current car situation. Dorian unable to help that soft simper that found his lips at his lovers reply. The phone was returned to his pocket a moment later as his arms folded across his chest, that white cotton shirt not nearly warm enough for the cool of the night and yet he had hardly anticipated to be standing within it. Dorian content to continue to watch his butler continue to work.

"Do you require assistance, Charles?"

Several muffled sounds escaped the other man's lips as he did...something with....some sort of tool. The entire process near lost upon the Italian. Charles glanced toward him with a nearly baffled look, as if hardly having anticipated such an offer before his head nodded. If your Majesty would not mind, yes, help would be greatly appreciated. Dorian's own head nodded then, the Monarch leaning away from the car to peer up and down that dark street, little existing around them that was still open save for a pharmacy and a bar across the street. Dorian frowning slightly in a clear contemplation.

"Very well, I shall find you some."
Ah, Your Majesty, you see I thought you were offering to- it hardly matters now. I think though it may be wiser if you were to remain in the car.
"There is bar over there, is that not a place where men congregate?"
It is, though I suspect they are not the type of men His Majesty is used to dealing with.
"I will be fine, Charles."
At least take one of your guards with you.
"Very well, Lucian, come with me. Marcello stay with Charles."

Charles, it seemed, very near considered arguing before thinking better of it. One of those bodyguards nodding before coming to stand beside the Were, the other moving to trail after Dorian himself. Both of those bodyguards were from his own Italian household, neither of them holding any more knowledge of tyre changing then Dorian himself and yet surely within a bar such a being existed who might be able to assist in some fashion. Such a bar too was unlikely to hold the very sort of people inclined to near mob him as the public so often seemed to do. His wedding to Sebastian had been broadcast on every television station and splashed on every newspaper throughout the world. The pair catapulted into more even more fame and celebrity then either truly desired and yet they had almost become used to it. Even if those photographers whom so often sat outside their house were something of an eyesore. Hopefully, so late at night, there would hardly be enough members of the public to crowd about him all the same.

The Italian King strode easily across the road then and toward that bar, at least one car parked outside looked decidedly expensive. Dorian assured someone within at least held some sort of status. Surely they had to, to own such a car, did they not? His hand pressed against the door then, swinging it open, Dorian near instantly assaulted by the sound of that Irish music. The Monarch halted in the doorway. His eyes widened readily in sheer surprise. That bar was positively overflowing, that music near deafening and several people appeared to be upon the very brink of an argument- several more wearing the war wounds of previously settled battles. This was not at all the sort of bar he used too, nor at all the kind he had been in before. The monarch glancing briefly toward his bodyguard.

"I think I am overdressed and I- oh this floor is terribly sticky. The sooner we find a man who knows about cars the better."

At least he might well not be noticed here, Dorian attempting to make his way towards the bar. The Monarch forced to dodge around several overly loud patrons before he strode toward that bar with his bodyguard in tow and keeping a careful eye upon him. Lucian more then powerful enough to assure he remained well protected. How on earth he was going to be heard over that music he hardly knew. Dorian eyeing several of those men seated there. One terribly large fellow appeared to be speaking some vague combination of English and Irish, a second man was so drunk he was barely able to sit upright- only one other man left and yet Dorian could near sense that magical affliction that existed around him. Warlocks and Witches by far his least favoured species if only for the grief they had caused him so many centuries ago. Still, for now, he so refused to allow that concern to show. Dorian nothing if not well practised in being just who or what he needed when the moment should call for it. Ruling a country so demanded it off him. Dorian paused beside Brennan then, one hand lifting to push that brunette hair away from his eyes, Dorian meeting the man's gaze with the silver off his own, his voice raised to be heard over that din.

"Good evening. Forgive my interruption of your evening but I was wondering if perchance..."

Those accented words faltered readily, that near age-old fashion of speaking Dorian seemed incapable of shaking readily seeming to drop as his gaze wandered more purposefully over the figure seated before him. The faintest of frowns maring his ever-youthful features then.

"Your not a pirate are you?"

The man, he was sure, looked distinctly like one although why Dorian seemed to feel as such he hardly knew. The fellow simply holding a look of sorts about him. The Fae hardly meaning any offense with that very declaration, his features a mix of near wary curiosity. It had been...years, centuries, since he had seen a real pirate. This fellow simply reminding him of those very beings in some fashion.

Dorian Aragona