This, Dorian had decided, was a night of several firsts for himself. The pub he so currently found himself within was the first real pub he had ever visited and indeed his first exposure to any sort of Irish culture or language at all. The room was veritably filled with that thickened accent and overly jovial music and yet so far the only real deduction he had made of the Irish as a people was their astounding ability to drink. Even the women seemed strikingly accustomed to it. Dorian decidedly curious off this talent and yet he hardly dared voice such a query to his newfound Pirate Warlock companion lest the man take some sort of offense over the matter. Perhaps he would ask Sebastian later. His attention was drawn away from two loudly arguing men then as he was posed with yet another first. The suspected Pirate the first man (in a very long time) to ask where his wings were. That very question prompting a momentary look of surprise to his features. Yet, that very politeness that had been so deeply ingrained within the Monarch throughout his childhood so demanded he answer that unusual query all the same. Those accented lyrics parting his lips once more as he afforded the warlock the very truth of that query.

"The wings of Fae are only visible when they intend to fly. Though not all Fae have wings to begin with. It depends upon one's lineage. Winged Fae are very good at being spotted more easily."

It was habit perhaps and too- that near age-old manner that so often resulted in Dorian's answering those questions in full even when a singular word might have otherwise sufficed. The Italian King so musing upon the very idea of wings for several moments all the same. Dorian rather assured his lack of those very appendages was a decidedly good thing. After all, a flying man so tended to be far more notable then a walking one. Dorian almost certain his species, or what remained of them, could hardly afford to be noticed to readily- at least not by the wrong people. The warlocks next words very near aligning with that thought. That mention off his 'value' so prompting the Monarch's gaze to drift across the crowd once more before his head nodded near solemnly.

"I suspect your right."

He offered simply. Dorian near thankful in that moment for the crowd, the music and the sheer amount of alcohol so freely flowing. The majority of those patrons far to taken with one thing or another to truly notice him as they so often did. How undervalued anonymity was. Still, the very matter as to why he had entered the bar in the first place remained, the almost....wariness with which the Warlock regarded Lucian and himself hardly missed and yet his efforts to explain just what he sought from the warlock were readily interrupted by that very phrase the Monarch failed to understand at all. Dorian had spent several years now within the modern world and yet those more unusual nuances were still something of a mystery to him. That baffled look on his features quickly remedied by his own bodyguard, Lucian making every effort to explain that phrase. Dorian near equally quick to assure the warlock he was hardly here to 'settle a score' or demand anyone pay any sort of debt. Money by far the least of the Monarch's concerns in every aspect.

The sudden mention of alcohol once more derailing his attempts to explain his presence. Dorian near assured after that night he had spent in Spain at that truly bizarre party he hardly desired any of those stronger spirits again. The Irishman before him so suddenly seeming to have made a deduction all his own as his gave flicked between Lucian and himself before he promptly apologised for thinking Lucian no more than 'the muscle'. Dorian's own features frowned softly in some attempt to understand just what the man was walking about, that very realization so seeming to dawn on him in near that same moment, that sudden bright grin finding his features. How terribly offended Sebastian would be to know he had been replaced in their relationship by a servant! The idea decidedly amusing as that soft chuckle echoed from within his own throat. The Warlocks mistake taken rather good-naturedly in that moment.

"Ah, mio amico, I fear you are mistaken. Lucian is indeed my bodyguard. My other guard and my manservant are outside. My husband, Sebastian, is at home. Though I shall take great pleasure in regalling him with this story later tonight. He will never believe I met a pirate to begin with. I look forward to it."

That ready simper found his lips once more. Dorian so affording the warlock a singular glimpse, perhaps, of that decidedly impish nature that existed beneath that overly formal manner he often wore. At least within public. Dorian so seemingly having settled entirely on the warlocks identification as a Pirate in turn. It would surely add a good measure of flare to that story. That very tale off his own night in Spain seemed to prompt the other man to assure him it sounded like a good time, Dorian so hardly able to deny it. It had been a terribly good time- from what he could remember off it anyway. That insistence that he would surely drink again however prompted that touch of a simper to his lips once more.

"I suspect you're probably right, I enjoy wine far to much to give it up entirely."

Tonight however, he had held little intention of drinking anything at all. Dorian oblivious to the idea that the man before him very near feared he was about to be prepositioned, those words once more failing to find his lips as the tavern man, Darby it seemed, so insisted he could hardly stand here unless he was drinking something. The Warlock further adding that Darby was hardly someone to be messed with if only for that glock that rested beneath the bar. Dorian so eyeing that very countertop almost suspiciously.

"I fear I am unfamiliar with the term glock as well. I presume it is some sort of weapon?"

Truthfully he was near curious off this 'glock' and yet he suspected the barkeep was not about to show it to him. Dorian rather assured the man would hardly need it all the same. The Monarch holding little desire to have himself injured. Sebastian would positively never forgive him. The Warlock proceeded to order another of 'the usual' Dorian near fascinated with this very interaction. The barkeep apparently so well versed in the mans drinking habits that he knew exactly what to bring him before turning to the Italian himself. Dorian's attempts to order something non-alcoholic resulting in little more than riotous laughter from the Pirate and several men surrounding them. Perhaps this was another trait of the Irish. Ridiculous laughter. Darby, in the least, appeared to take that request more seriously. Even if it still resulted in his being handed a glass of that very alcohol he had requested not to have from the top shelf. His and Sebastian's wedding apparently having succeed in keeping the man's wife busy for several hours. Dorian quick to insist the fellow did not owe him anything. He could barely understand him.

It was with some measure of reluctance that the Monarch took his place on that aged bar stool. Dorian at last afforded the chance to attempt to commission his warlock companion into assisting in fixing that car tyre. Only to be met with laughter again. These people! The monarch assured he was not nearly so funny as this fellow seemed to find him. Dorian scowling slightly at those offered words.

"I was off the belief that men congregated in bars and that the changing of a tyre might be within the skillset of such men. I did not anticipate they would be this drunk and yet until this moment I have never met an irishman. I have learned a great deal about your people tonight."

Whether or not such a sentence was a compliment in any sense remained to be seen. Th Warlock appearing thoroughly amused all the same.

"Do I truly appear as if I know what triple A is?"

One eye lifted neatly upward as he regarded the man beside him. Dorian near assured this would result in nothing but fits of laughter in turn. Lucian, for his part, appeared equally as baffled about what was so entirely funny. Perhaps this man knew nothing about car tyres at all. Dorian once more contemplating the nearly unconscious fellow several seats over- or perhaps Darby- when the Warlock so suggested he might yet be able to help. Though such help was not about to be free. Dorian so eyeing this Brennan, as he was apparently called, almost suspiciously now.

"Brennan it is then, pleasure. What, might I ask, Brennan- do you want in return? If you seek some sort of monetary compensation I am sure I can see to it."

Money, Dorian had learned, seemed to be very much what everyone wanted. That very facet of human nature hardly having changed in the hundreds of years he had lived. The fae King largely suspecting this was what Brennan desired as well. Dorian so allowed one finger to trace the very rim of that glass before him and yet he so hardly dared bring it to his lips, that glass pushed towards Brennan now in that unspoken offering. The Warlock sure to enjoy it more then he would. That comment upon his 'royal ass' promoting that raised eye once more. How long had it been since anyone dare utter such words in his presence? What a curious man.

"I am assured I can handle the stool a little longer, displeasing as it is. Why is it, might I ask, that you are here though? I have lived a very long time you see and it seems to me men only drink to this extent when they are celebrating, when they are trying to forget, or when a woman is involved. I suspect it is not the first in your case. You know, you have quite pleasant eyes, your hair could.....expand its horizons a little though."

Those final words faltered if only slightly, Dorian so attempting to choose a distinctly polite way of suggesting that the Warlocks hair could surely benefit from some furthered assistance. A sudden change in music seeing several people rise to dance.

"Are the Irish always this enthusiastic?"

Dorian Aragona