The notion of sitting within the lounge room and wearing pyjamas- a state of undress as far as Dorian is concerned- is one distinctly foreign to the man. Why Samantha seemed to insist they go through this nightly affair of changing into evening wear without any intention of actually going to bed he hardly knew. He preferred to stay within his clothing until he actually retired- even despite Samantha's assurance it was far more comfortable. As such, despite her having sent him upstairs to change, Dorian had done little more than eye these 'pyjamas' with no small measure of suspicion until his name called from downstairs saw the eternally youthful Fae King wander back onto the landing. Silvery grey eyes fall readily onto the sight of a woman he does not know striding into the apartment, Dorian merely raising one eye before returning to his own room, seeing little need to bless the woman with his presence. Women were prone to idle talk and gossip he found outside his ability to pretend to hold interest in, content to leave Samantha with her companion and return to his study from the night before, reclining easily back upon his bed with his favoured of books. Dorian yet to proceed beyond the 16th century in his learnings of history and yet he refused to merely skip any single chapter.

It is only the continual mention of dresses and tiara's that at last stirs him from his room once more, the young man striding effortlessly down stairs in evident curiosity, eyes widening at the sight of both women before him- the fae near instantly attempting to avert his gaze in an effort to protect the virtue and honour neither woman seemed even remotely concerned with displaying.
"Samantha- neither you nor your companion are dressed appropriately. I can see far too much of both of you."

So much....skin, was, at least in his day, an abhorrent thing for a young woman to display outside of certain professions. There was very little chaste about either outfit, Samantha's perhaps the more acceptable of the two. It's colour and cut, in the least, highly pleasing upon Samantha's frame even if her arms, shoulders and sides were near bare in a manner that would make any young boy blush. The questioning tone of the woman whose name he does not know however sees his own gaze fall upon her, eyes narrowing ever so slightly at her tone.

"I beg your pardon? I am the King of Naples."

She was, he is assured, significantly out of line, any further words (fortunately) cut off by Samantha before Dorian could seek to berate the other girl further. Where on earth it was Samantha seemed to assist he accompany her remained to be seen, the Fae returning to his room to change into suitable attire. At least- what this century seemed to deem suitable attire, Dorian assured it was incorrect and beneath his station all the same. He had attended countless balls in his time, the vast majority held in his honour or that of his families. After all, Naples was a politically important country, one many others had sought to woo in some sense of the word. That they were attending some sort of event for a mayor (he assumes this is surely some sort of minor and unimportant lord) seems an excessive effort on his behalf- and that of Samantha's. It was unheard of for himself, the King of Italy and most of its surrounding regions, to attend an event so minor. Even Samantha as the apparent Queen of this kingdom was surely above such a thing and yet both women seemed insistent. Dorian allowing himself to be coerced if only because some part of him is curious of the event. Another part of him unwilling to allow Samantha to wander about town when the girl refused to learn which fork was for salad and which spoon was for dessert. Someone, as a matter of principal, was required to assure the woman conducted herself correctly.

The sudden appearance of the car however- quickly sees Dorian halt. His dislike of them has, so far, eclipsed all other fears of the modern world, the fae refusing to believe they were safe in any fashion. He can feel the iron in it. How allowing this beast to consume them was at all equivalent to assuring their safety he failed to see, even Samantha's assurance failing to appease him. It took no less than four tries to convince the fae to actually get in the car, Dorian refusing to touch any part of it, the engine roaring to life earning a shout of surprise from the man followed by several strings of rather colour cussing in Italian. Nadya's threat is utterly ignored, the man a veritable wreck by the time they actually arrive at the event.

"We are never getting in it again. I shall have them banned in Naples too."

Is all he manages, taking several moments to actually compose himself before taking Samantha's arm, the girl clinging to him, her whisper hardly missed as he simply nods his assurance to remain beside her- pausing briefly at the door, slowing his own racing heart rate from the car ride.

"Samantha- we are entering a room, when royalty enters a room it does not cower. Walk as if you have purpose- and remember, even though inappropriate- you do look beautiful."

The faintest of smiles adorns his features, if only for a moment, Dorian capable, somewhere beneath the confines of his own rather strict upbringing, of offering some gentleness all the same. His own demeanour having shifted rapidly to be who he needed to be in this moment. The man far more together then he had been only moments ago as he enters with his companion. If this is a modern day version of a ball it is far different then what he is used too, the Fae eyeing the room with curiosity, allowing Samantha to lead, following Nadya once more though of what importance this woman was he hardly knew. There was, in the least, some comfort to be taken from being at an event he understood. Falling into a role he knew well. The sudden appearance of a man with startlingly white hair seeing both eyes lift, though his voice is little more than a murmur to Sam alone.

"Who is this man? Is he Nadya's lover to which she is unwed?"

The fact no one seemed to be married and everyone lived in a constant state of sin was still one Dorian struggled to accept.

"I have never before seen hair like that- it is like snow. Is he afflicted with some sickness?"