It had occurred to Dorian, in those moments that followed his entrance into that pub, that Charles had perhaps been decidedly right. This was not at all the sort of place he was used to frequenting in any sense. The music was near obnoxiously loud and those patrons equally so. The floor was a sticky mess of varying alcohols long since combined as they spilled to the floor and not a single other being in that place was dressed in near the same fashion as himself. The Fae King so suddenly feeling rather aware of that golden bracelet around his wrist, the jeweled chain at his neck and that diamond encrusted wedding ring upon his left hand. This, he suspected, was not the sort of place to advertise such things. The Monarch reaching to rearrange the collar of his dress shirt just so as to hide a little of that amulet and chain beneath. Not that such a gesture seemed to lessen the blatant gawking of some. Dorian so choosing to continue his quest into the depths of that irish-themed building of debauchery if only because movement seemed safer then idly standing and at least one man seated at the bar appeared to be in a state of mind and body to render himself useful when it came to cars. Men, he was sure, knew about cars. In the very least they always appeared to on those television advertisements.

Lucian, for his part, lingered decidedly close beside him as they approached that seated man. Dorian struck near instantly with the realisation that this man was not human, more so he could near feel the magical energy that clung to the fellows aura in a way unique to witches and warlocks alone. Such beings by far his least favoured species even if their crime against him had been committed well over five centuries ago. Still- the fellow before him was a far more suitable choice then the unconscious man or the largely fellow whom was boldly telling tales of nonsense in an irish accent so thick Dorian hardly knew what he was saying at all. No, he would have to speak with the warlock and merely hope the fellow proved at least decent. That very request had already begun to form on his lips as his silver gaze lingered upon the man before him. The Fae King, for the first time, seeming to truly take in the appearance of the man before him. That secondary question quite near tumbling unbidden from his lips. It had been centuries since he had seen a true pirate and yet this fellow, whether by choice or coincidence, looked near exactly like one.

Dorian had hardly anticipated that near bellow of laughter he was greeted with. The Warlock's demeanor shifting near abruptly from that near wary watchfulness into something else altogether. The Monarch so noting for the first time how very similar this man's eyes were to his own and yet such idle observation was all but forgotten in the wake of the mans near riddled response to that query. Ah, how much this being reminded him of Matteo with such words! Dorian frowning ever so slightly and yet whatever words he had so been about to offer were abruptly halted by the warlock lifting that drink to his lips- only to down it in a single motion. Heavens but why did all these men drink as if they didn't want to live! That near awe of sorts that lingered upon his features at such drinking was quickly replaced by that soft frown once more at that blatant inquiry of just what he was. This man perhaps one of the few in all the city whom hardly appeared to know who he was, let alone what. It was, in some fashion, almost refreshing really and yet the Monarch so hesitated all the same. As if to consider those very words before he offered them. His own accent decidedly potent in turn. Yet- those words were uttered softly for the Warlock's ears alone.

"I am a Fae."

It was perhaps hardly surprising in any sense that the warlock had not recognised his species. Fae were an endangered and dying breed in near every country of the world. His species near notorious difficulty with reproduction so combined with their near irresistible blood had seen vampires near hunt them into extinction. Their inability to heal like most supernatural species only further assisting in their demise. Dorian hardly wishing to further advertise his existence more then he had already done. The Monarch oblivious to the notion his own presence, combined with Lucian, had so rendered the warlock before him wary of having committed some crime in turn. The warlocks (or perhaps Pirate, Dorian remained uncertain) sudden inquiry into his presence saw that look of confusion touch his youthful features yet again. His gaze following the mans gesture towards that top shelf whiskey as his head simply shook. Those overly formal words finding him again as he regarded the Pirate Warlock once more.

"I am not familiar with this phrase 'score to settle' quite frankly I have no idea what you are talking about, is it a sort of game? I don't-"

The Pirate is asking whether or not His Majesty is here to exact revenge on another or collect a debt to be paid, it is a common English colloquialism.

Lucian's sudden words saw Dorian pause once more, the Fae King hardly having anticipated such an explanation and yet that understanding seemed to dawn upon him all at once, that warm simper finding his lips suddenly as he turned toward the Warlock once more.

"Oh, well, one assures you I am not here to settle any of the scoring, nor am I here to drink for that matter. I have just this past week returned from Spain. My husband took me to a sort of festival there you see. I have never in all my life had so much of this modern alcohol and frankly I fear I might still be mildly drunk from it. Do you know, I positively could barely remember my own name after that night? I have never been so drunk as that and I am inclined to avoid it for a little while. You understand?"

For the manner in which the Warlock was making his way through his own alcohol Dorian was not entirely assured he did understand at all. Still, he had hardly proven...unfriendly, exactly. The Monarch still holding some measure of hope he might prove useful.

"I am looking for a man who-"

This is a no standing zone sorry, bud. You either gotta order a drink or sit and drink one.

His words were near abruptly cut off by that barkeep. Dorian glancing from the man, to Brennan and back again. The Monarch near assured he had never heard such a rule in all his life and yet- he had never been in such an establishment as this either. Perhaps it was the rule. Dorian so glanced towards Brennan once more, curious as to whether the warlock might intervene upon his behalf and yet it appeared little help was coming from him. That sigh of defeat echoing then as he moved to take a seat next to the Pirate Warlock. Sebastian would never believe this story. His voice near exasperated then.

"Oh, very well. Do you have anything not alcoholic?"
Not at this bar, mate. Here- on the house. Me missus loved watchin' ya wedding on tv. Had all the girls over. Kept her outta me hair all afternoon, I owe ya one for that.
"Thank you Tavern Man, although I should not like you to owe me anything at all and I should not like to continue this relationship beyond this singular exchange. I find you difficult to understand."
Ha, your a funny one.

Neither man, it seemed, had fully comprehended what the other was saying. Dorian's overly formal words achieving little more than a chuckle from that barkeep whose irish accent was equally baffling to the Italian. Still, the man reached behind him for those very black label drinks the Warlock had pointed out, puring one a moment later only to slide it toward Dorian who eyed it balefully. What a bizzare evening this was turning out to be. His attention so at last returned to the Warlock in full.

"As I so intended to say, before I was coerced into sitting upon this poorly constructed bar stool, I am searching for a man who is familiar with cars and their tyres. Are you such a man? I require assistance in changing a tyre you see and I am not entirely assured how to do it. Oh, and I am Dorian. This is Lucian."

Dorian Aragona