It was a curious sort of thing to disagree upon, if one could truly even say the pair were disagreeing. Dorian so raised in a time and place that very near refused to permit him to openly disagree with anyone in public lest it be taken for disorderly conduct else some other manner of ungentlemanly behaviour. Yet in this, the very goodness of people, they seemed quite divided. The Fae King was assured that he had seen the very worst humanity was capable off. He had seen the witch trials, the beheadings, the wars. He had seen kingdoms and villages alike burned to the ground, he had seen his own father's room where Ferdinand had once kept his enemies, stuffed and grotesquely posed as if they were still alive and too- he had suffered at the hands off his own siblings and Ferdinand in turn. Yet, for every injustice and act of hate, for every death and torture there was surely, somewhere within the world a kindness so being undertaken. He had seen what people could do when united. He had seen crumbled kingdoms rise, children born and oppression overthrown. He had seen great acts of bravery to save another just as he had seen people pause to shelter even an animal from harm. Perhaps it was they he believed in. Even if Brennan would have him believe they were a sparse few- those good people. Yet were they often not the ones remembered? Perhaps he did not believe in goodness so much as hope. Perhaps he was simply naive and yet he had lived a terribly long time, far longer than Brennan. Perhaps, one day, Brennan might yet change his mind- in that he truly hoped. Yet for now Dorian so hardly voiced an argument beyond that simply sentiment that for all Brennan so claimed to find disappointment in the world- he had fought terribly hard to return to it. That singular comment upon 'details' prompting a touch of amusement to the Monarch's lips all the same.

His hand extended forward in those moments that followed, resting upon the forearm off his new companion in a singular gesture of compassion shared between two men whom perhaps knew the very struggle of just what a curse could do. Dorian wholly oblivious in that moment to how very much that touch might truly have meant to the 'pirate' warlock. The Fae King assured he could help this man, at least to some degree, so provided that very help did not jeopardize his own home or anything within its vicinity. Truly he was largely unsure how very....irritable a demon might prove to be if those books proved to be true and one was awoken. Dorian assured he would not have any such thing occurring within his own home and threatening his or Sebastian's own life- let alone those of the neighbours. Brennan seemingly content to promise that in the very least as Dorian's head nodded.

"Thank you."

Why he so readily believed that warlock he hardly knew and yet in this Brennan seemed decidedly honest. Dorian so choosing that moment to comment upon those prices surely paid for blood magic and indeed those very prices one need pay to appease a demon. A favour for a soul a truly heavy one at that. Brennan's head shaking once more with that soft insistence it was surely to great a price to pay and yet had the warlock truly expected any less from a Demon? Had he never yet turned through the pages of a bible? Had he never read of those warnings on such unholy creatures? Demon's, the Italian Fae was sure, did not make fair deals. After all, those whom had come to them were often desperate to begin with. A desperate man cared not for a fair deal- only for escape. Brennan, it seemed, having fallen well into such a ploy and yet perhaps he was not to be blamed in full. Such circumstances were truly adverse. Women. It was always women.

That mention of his troubled car, in the least, seemed to draw the pair away from such disparaging talk. Dorian all-too eager to rise from that truly questionable bar stool with that intent of guiding the warlock outside and toward that horribly flattened tie. The mention off his age seeming to prompt a sort of obscure whistle from the man before Brennan promptly insisted he hardly looked a day over 20. Dorian readily allowing that simper to find his lips once more.

"Thank you, the Fae bloodline from which I descended is a truly youthful one. My Father is well over two thousand and looks no more than twenty five or so."

That comment on age, it seemed, was taken entirely as a compliment. The Monarch inclined to find Brennan an agreeable sort of person. Dorian wholly content to lead the way when prompted then, Lucian moving to stand beside him as always as they made their way through that jovial crowd and out into the cool air and comfortable darkness. Charles and that car right where he had left them. Dorian was oblivious, largely, to that very game of sorts Brennan had so silently taken up in an attempt to rattle poor Charles. The Manservant appearing entirely unsure of just how to take the 'pirate' warlock introduced to him and yet Were creatures such as Charles were often a suspicious sort. The poor fellow so clearly struggling to decide just what Brennan seemed to be after before offering his hand- only to pull it back rather hurriedly the moment Brennan took it. How odd Charles was being. Dorian readily content to direct his new companion back toward that tyre. Brennan insisting that story he was promised might somehow encourage his magic. Dorian so eyeing the man rather curiously then.

"Really?"

It seemed an odd sort of thing to be true and yet perhaps it was. Dorian contemplating that very thing before Brennan so inquired about tools. The Fae King merely allowing one eye to rise in good-natured amusement at that very question. How amusing that Brennan might believe he had ever touched any sort of working tool let alone kept any on hand. Charles stepping forward in that moment to insist they had at least some before hurrying to that trunk to fetch them and hand what little they had to Brennan in turn. Dorian, for his part, content to fold his arms behind his back in that manner he so had before resigning himself to watch over that work with a clear curiosity. Inquisitiveness, after all, ran deeply within that Fae breed. Dorian no exception. He was reluctant, in some fashion, to share the very intricate details of that story and yet he could surely share enough to at least provide the warlock with some understanding of just what had happened all those years ago- even if the Monarch so often strove to forget it altogether. His first words however evidently wasted. Brennan insisting he hardly paid attention in class! How did one not know of history! Dorian frowning toward that warlock then.

"It was a religious war of sorts, essentially, one designed to expose heretics and assure Spain and its Kingdoms, along with Naples were largely catholic. I might give you a book on that too."

It could hardly hurt the man to do a little reading. Dorian himself terribly fond of such a thing. The Monarch returning to his story then as he so watched Brennan fiddle with that tyre. Where on earth had he gotten that obscure tool? Was that one of Charles' own? Dorian's silver gaze lingered on those metal rings the man seemed to be tossing over his shoulder rapidly. Was he fixing that tyre or breaking it further? Dorian's gaze narrowed slightly as he continued, watching that car suddenly find itself jacked up. How remarkable. That sudden question catching him off guard.

"Hmm? Oh, I was not alone. Every member of my families staff was trapped with us. I had several hundred people to attend to me after my family died. When the staff so begun to die of old age my Father, my true father, offered them the choice of living their natural lives or becoming Fae. Nearly all chose to become Fae- so he changed them. We Fae do not need to eat or drink you see? Although it makes for a rather dull existence. As for how long, I was there just over five hundred years. Nearly all of my life I have been in that place."

How terrible that life had once been. Not that it could truly be called life. After all, he had barely been living, merely existing day after day after day. Eventually the library had run out of books, the palace had run out of rooms to explore and the world had moved on without him. How little he liked to think of that time. That mention of his sanity prompting a near rueful smile.

"I very nearly didn't, some days. My Father would visit me, he was the only one whom could travel in and out of that castle. He would talk to me of the outside world, sometimes he would bring me new books. I enjoyed painting. Many of my staff were young women- my bed was never empty."

That, perhaps, was a more gentlemanly way of suggesting just how he had spent his time in the evening at least. Dorian so evidently inclined to enjoy both men and women. That life not entirely without....satisfaction and yet that boredom, that monotony, how he loathed to think of it. The Fae King so fell silent in that moment, considering several of those facets off his past life he rarely cared too. A different sort of question so seeming to find his lips then, a deeper one, one that seemed to prompt Brennan to pause in turn. How far would the Warlock truly go? That very admittance that he did not know was perhaps a sensible answer and a truthful one at that. That answer not quite what the Monarch had expected and yet, oddly, he found himself almost contended with it. That query on how far he himself would go saw his own head tilt slightly. To stay with Sebastian there was near nothing he would not give. Dorian knowing that answer entirely without truly having to question it and yet he so hardly had to worry for Sebastian finding 'someone else' either, that a singular fear Dorian had not once entertained. After all, that red thread that bound him to his husband was of their souls itself. Yet- the very nature of Brennan's question had perhaps coaxed another thought to his mind.

"This woman of yours- is she happy with whoever else it is she has found?"

After all, why would Brennan mention another if there was not another involved? Dorian a decidedly observant creature when he cared to be. His silver gaze continuing to linger on that tyre. Really, where was he getting those tools from? In the least he looked as if he was very near done. Dorian shifted but slightly towards Charles then, his hand outstretched in that unspoken gesture before the manservant hurriedly handed him a small, white piece of cardboard. The Fae King thanking him softly before waiting for Brennan to finish with that tyre, that card held towards the warlock once he had righted himself. A warm simper upon his lips.

"That is my address and the number for my Secretary. You will need to make an appointment to come and collect your books I fear, otherwise the guards will not let you through the front gates. We don't receive guests in the daylight hours but any time after about eight in the evening will work. How do take your tea? I'll make sure the staff know for when you arrive. Any evening next week should work."

After all, Brennan had fixed his tyre, he could at least offer the man tea could he not?