It was inconceivable to the vampire, how such a simple thing as true genuine love could produce such unfathomable emotions within him. That warmth flooded his chest at the simple sound of that newfound surname the couple had finally decided upon as theirs once their marriage was signed and sealed. It was, perhaps, early to so utilize it and yet, Sebastian found himself entirely incapable of complaining. Rather, a small simper crossed his features as Dorian's silver hued gaze turned towards him. It was difficult in that moment not to reach out to the fae, that simple physical contact was something the Englishman so relished in. Though the vampire was certainly no longer within his own era, some of those tendencies still remained wholly strong within the Victorian gentleman. To dote too heavily upon one's significant other in public was looked down upon with the same sort of judgment as being too forward with an unaccompanied lady. Even so, his gaze was content to linger, the vampire wholly missing that almost smug look upon Arlo's features. In fact, he had quite forgotten altogether of his momentary panic upon Arlo's sofa over that very quandary of his future surname. "It suits you." He uttered softly, even if he was well aware that it was hardly that very last name that Abigail had so been energetic about.

His gaze shifted from the fae King only by the presence of Charles and that sweet, delicious wine. His own cup had become decidedly empty with all of that talk of Arlo's continual vying for Abigail's affections. For now, however, Arlo seemed entirely content to question his companion over that exclamation of his own name, a question Sebastian too found himself wondering. Though he made some effort to appear at least somewhat interested in that pasta dish before him, there was little doubt that the vampire was wholly attentive to that conversation across the table. Arlo's explanation of the girl's rather pitiful excuse caused his eyebrows to rise. Frankly, the vampire hardly believed as readily that Abigail had been attempting to remind Dorian of whom he was marrying. He was certain that his fiancé was unlikely to forget their impending wedding in the slightest. Those blue eyes turned towards the pair across the table, eying them in a dubious fashion as if he simply could not believe that excuse, much less that Arlo had so easily bought it. Tonight, he fully intended to inquire after that very event with the Monarch, though he suspected that the pair would have much to talk about after their guests had left.

He reached for his own fork, cutting into that lasagna, the vampire watching with only vague interest as the white cheeses and sauce oozed from those noodles. Though he hardly held the same aversion to food as Arlo did, even he had to admit that lasagna was vastly less intriguing than the taste of blood that Arlo was clearly freely indulging in. Sebastian listened with vague interest as that conversation turned towards the gardens at the palace. The Englishman himself had never truly held that same level of passion for flora and fauna as his lover did and yet, he was more often than not entirely content to listen to Dorian on those topics of flowers and plants all the same. By the looks of it, it seemed Arlo too would find himself in a near similar position. Still, he had to admit that the gardens of Caserta were a wonder to behold, something that might even prompt a look of awe on even Arlo's face. Sebastian himself had found his own sort of tranquility amongst that English styled landscaping. It had been welcoming in a way he hadn't quite expected - a glimpse of that homeland he had only just left. Frankly, he was certain the pair would quite enjoy their stay at the palace as much as he tended to, once they got accustomed to that splendor.

Those idle thoughts, however, were brought rather abruptly to a haunt by that near innocent inquiry upon his lover's lips. Though it certainly seemed innocent enough, such a suggestion of any singular being holding some possessive tendencies over the vampire was enough to bring a clear hint of nervousness to the man. For years he had quite near run away from any sort of lasting attachment with any singular soul. He had avoided creating any meaningful relationships with anyone outside of his staff and had every intention of spending the rest of his life in such a fashion - at least until Dorian. Though a part of him relished in the idea that Dorian might hold for him the same near obsession he so held for the Monarch. And yet, another far more illogical part of the Englishman was near terrified that such emotions might bring about the ruin of this relationship in the same fashion it had so ruined his last. He was near desperate to ensure his marriage worked, those feelings he had for Dorian were somehow greater than anything he had ever experienced before - even for her. It was almost a relief, really, that Arlo admitted his possessiveness was for blood alone, a feeling that went unprovoked largely due to the simple that of the lack of presence of any others of his own kind. What he hadn't expected, however, was that admittance that Arlo intended to ensure his safety merely because they were friends.

How long had it been since Sebastian had last had a friend? At least one that was not a member of his own staff? It was almost endearing really, those blue eyes simply watched his companion as Arlo shoved that lasagna in his face in an effort to stop him from saying something he regretted. That admittance that Arlo hardly knew what he was doing in regards to that life as the undead, however, finally prompted the Englishman's involvement within that conversation, even if he was almost unsure of the proper way to word that very offer. "If you should ever....have questions about....well, us, I would be happy to assist, Arlo." After all, it was the least the elder vampire could do. Though his own maker had abandoned him in much the same fashion, he disliked the thought of the poor man left to figure out this existence in the same way that he had been forced to. It was a distinctly terrifying thing - to be a vampire, alone without the slightest knowledge of what to do with all of those more animalistic emotions. God, how he hated to even think of it! This, he was certain, was exactly what friends were for. That inquiry of creators, however, turned his own attention towards the young Abigail, the woman far more knowledgeable then he gave her credit for when it came to the biological workings of her own species. Even his own staff hardly seemed to pay much thought to that condition that so affected their bodies. As for Dorian's own question, this was an answer he certainly knew well, even if the vampire chose to remain silent on it to provide the were-woman herself the opportunity to respond. What intrigued him far more was the simple fact that Matteo had turned several humans before. Did that not take a toll on him? Did he not too have some connection or devotion to them? Similar, perhaps, to the one he held to his fiance as his father? It was a curious thought, though one he hardly intended to ask after. He doubted Matteo would provide him with any sort of real answer, nor did he suspect it mattered.