Harley's insistence that the tattoo gun would not be at risk of having its feelings hurt so hardly seemed to sway the Monarch from his determined efforts to speak...politely to it. That machine might be invulnerable to such linguistic eloquence and social niceties and yet harley surely was not. It was surely clear to any that the woman took pride in the....pointed device. Dorian was loath to speak ill of it lest Harley herself take issue with such things. Dorian so merely inclined to focus upon that lesson at hand. Harley was quick to insist the machine was best thought of as a rather large pencil. That very imagery prompted a frown from the Monarch as he strove to picture such a thing before the Were woman began the task of 'drawing' that rose and thorns. Her 'pencil' managed to inject that leather with coloured ink as she worked, adding flourish to that design with each practised stroke. Harley's skill was nothing short of evident with every practised touch. The Fae King veritably in awe of such a thing before she lent away to reveal that picture she had crafted so flawlessly. Such a fascinating medium! How glorious! Dorian's hands clapped readily together in clear appreciation. The Monarch uttered that Italian in delight. Dorian momentarily forgetting his companions' lack of familiarity with his native tongue as the woman offered him a near blank stare- only to insist such a word had far too many syllables that she had not understood. Her words prompted a soft chuckle from the Fae King.

"Forgive me, I am inclined to forget my English in moments of excitement. It is not my first language. I said 'wonderful'. For I truly believe it is."

The Monarch's silver gaze lingered readily upon the picture. Dorian so hardly anticipated that sudden offer to allow himself to use that gun and yet- how utterly he adored his art and but any chance to try another medium. Dorian wholly unwilling to allow such an opportunity to pass even if his security team seemed to tense at the very thought. After all, his work with all other manner of machinery had perhaps not been so terribly...successful. The Monarch lamented his disastrous efforts with elevators and laptops and that sort of spinning device that engaged sorcery to heat food. A machine that still baffled the Fae King in every sense. Harley;s insistence that his words had been a 'nice one' seemed to prompt little more then a blank look from the monarch. Dorian oblivious to the notion Harley had taken his admittance as a joke- the woman going on the assure him that 'microwave' was the word he sought and that it was hardly sorcery. Merely the 'wonderful world of electronics' and....tv dinners? Dorian's features frowned once more as if it were she who spoke that foreign language now, only for the woman to query what he had done to upset that microwave to begin with- outside of leaving 'tin foil' within it.

"I am unfamiliar with tinfoil, I do not believe it was the source of my distress however. Rather, when it was explained to me what a microwave did and, indeed, I was shown its powers I attempted to see what else it might be capable of heating. I have learned it is a short and limited list rather narrowed down by various foods. Microwaves are not terribly efficient at heating...non-food items. Frankly i find it rather a waste of a machine. I am rarely given to eat so I see no reason why I have any need of one."

Dorian frowned once more as if it were the microwaves fault for existing in any sense. A perfectly foolish machine as far as he was concerned. The Monarch content to blame it for its own shortcomings rather than his having placed inappropriate material within it. Harley, in the very least, seemed content to insist this manner of artistic drawing was vastly easier then a microwave. Dorian wholly content to focus upon the task at hand as Harley offered that guidance. Each step carefully explained. Dorian focused upon little save correctly placing a singular dot of ink upon that leather correctly before looking up with sheer delight at such success. The Monarch so readily content to demand a photograph be taken so that he might show Sebastian tonight. Lucas, as always, was quick to do as he was bid. Dorian so proudly displayed that singular dot of colour. Harley's very assurance that he might yet draw something else seemed to prompt no smallegree f thought within the Monarch- Dorian turning back to that leather then only to carefully (and slowly) place another dot and another and another. The Monarch was oblivious to that slowly growing crowd outside. His presence so evidently having been discovered as security began to order people back and away from the doors and windows as they eagerly held their phones upwards in an effort to capture a photo or recording of the Monarch. Dorian was still neatly concealed within Harley's workspace as he worked diligently at that 'drawing'.

The Monarch was oblivious, in that moment, to the frown that had found Harley's own features and the contemplative thoughts that turned within her mind. Dorian tiltin his head slightly as he carefully coloured that rounded section of his picture- only for Harley to utter his name. The Monarch glanced upward and toward her in momentary surprise.

"Hmmm, yes?

Harley leaned agianst the table beside him, her arms folding across her chest as she regarded him evenly then. The woman suddenly asked about a 'fiery' soul and how such a thing might relate to auras. Dorian's own features were quick to frown once more.

"Do you mean an aura coloured with red and orange and yellow like fire? Or do you mean to ask after a soul made out of fire?"

The Monarch's gaze so readily lingered upon the woman's own as she insisted upon a soul made out of fire, the very notion prompting a near baffled look from the Fae King once more.

"I have never seen a soul like that, at least, not yet. Why do you ask?"

How readily Dorian was inclined to be contemplative once more, the Monarch seeming to ponder that very thing. How utterly glorious it might be to see such a soul as that! Had Harley seen such a thing? Or did she simply find herself curious? Dorian, in turn, so readily considered that thing before his gaze turned to Harley once more.

"As I said, I have never seen a soul made from it before but I should think such a thing is most significant. Fire is most complex you see. It is both life and death, it is anger and purification, it is passion and desire and healing just as it is destruction and wildness and unpredictability. It is an old element. Inexplicably tied to the earth. But it represents....balance. It can heal as readily as it can harm. Such a soul I can only imagine is one capable of as much destruction as they are creation. Such a soul could only be held by someone who is, at their core, inexplicably balanced- but I have met anyone like that and I might well be wrong entirely. Have you seen a soul like that? I would very much like to see it for myself. It might offer me far greater insight."

Dorian Aragona