It had been a trying day for the faerie queen, and it was far from over. She had meant nothing but a good gesture when she'd expressed to Dorian a few days before that they should invite his lover over for dinner. Dorian had surely thought she was kidding at first, until she'd insisted that on Friday night, they would have the vampire over for dinner. Since then, it seemed as though she had set the Italian king into a flurry of anxiety as for the first time, he worked to straighten things up in the apartment - Sam wouldn't quite call it cleaning, exactly - and work out every detail of the evening. For the most part, Samantha had done her best to placate the demands of the neurotic man. Or at least, she had until she'd found him within her closet trying to pick out an appropriate outfit for the girl to wear to present herself to his lover.

"I can assure you, Dorian," She had sighed as she shooed him out of her room. "I am perfectly capable of dressing myself. I don't need your assistance." She'd taken the hangers of clothes back out of his hands, thrusting the outfits back into the closet with a stubborn note to not pick those outfits. It was a shame, really, as the white one he'd picked had been something that she'd been considering. Still, there was only so much micromanaging the fae girl could take. It reminded her so easily of her human days, in which the Upper East Side family that she'd grown up within had been so preoccupied with her appearance. She'd moved past that, hadn't she? She would not go back to that, no way. She'd dress herself, and she would look lovely, and this dinner would go well despite Dorian's constant assurance that it wouldn't.

Dorian was fussing about in the kitchen when she made her way downstairs, which was always a dangerous sign. In the end, her ability to pick out her clothes had been abysmal, and she'd simply put on a tank top and yoga pants to start on her dinner. After all, she still had a bit of time before Sebastian would be there, and surely she'd have time to change into something more appropriate. She went into the kitchen, watching as he fussed about in the refrigerator. "What are you doing?" She commented, reaching to put a hand on his shoulder to pull him out so she could shut the door. "Dori, I don't need help in the kitchen. I promise that I have this entirely under control."

She patted him gently on the shoulder before she turned to the sink to wash her hands. "Also, you... you can pick out my outfit. Everything looks wrong, and this is your night, and I want you to relax. And if picking out what I wear will make you happy, then..." She waved her hand towards the general direction of her bedroom. She moved then, going to grab the chicken out of the fridge. "Sebastian likes Italian, right? I know you will, of course." She smiled up at him, a teasing simper on her features. "Unless, of course, you'd like to forgo dinner altogether and simply let you be the main course?"