It was very nearly ten in the morning by the time the Fae finally made it back to the apartment he shared with Samantha, Dorian momentarily waylaid at the door by his inability to work the key within the lock. It was an entirely frustrating process and the very reason, Dorian is sure, that one should employ doorman. For the sole purpose of opening doors. It takes several tries before the man at last manages it, muttering with irritation to himself all the while, edging the door open softly before peering into the living room. It was...quiet. The Fae almost relieved at the lack of his female companion. He is, by no means, ashamed of himself in any sense of the word. Indeed his night with Sebastian had been so thoroughly pleasing that had he not been inclined to remember that Samantha would, at some point, have come looking for him, he would have been entirely content to remain in the other mans bed. It was easily the best sleep he had been afforded since his arrival in this kingdom, the silken sheets and presence of Sebastian beside and against him, let alone his exhaustion from their.....entertainment had rendered Dorian exhausted and blissfully comfortable all at once. With the rise of the sun however, had come an entirely new day, one that had seen the man fall more readily back into his normal routine. It was....against his own set of rules to linger in a bed for even as long as he did. He knows, innately, he should not have spent the night with his companion, no good ever came from becoming attached to ones conquests and yet, last night, he had simply found himself unwilling to leave.

Samantha was perhaps still asleep, often she went to the place she called 'work' at truly obscure hours, coming home to spend the better part of the day sleeping. Dorian had become far more tolerable of her routine since their move to this significantly better home. It afforded the fae a luxury he was far more used to and by that same token he was made easily content to read for the better part of the day. Samantha had provided history books and in them Dorian had placed most of his interest of late. That she would be displeased at his absence for the entire evening however had occurred to him more that once, even despite his own steadfast belief that she could not command anything of him all the same, nor was she his keeper and yet and inborn fear of a woman's wrath is something that perhaps afflicts all men to a certain level.

The fae moves with a deliberate and precise care, making some effort to be quiet as he mounts the stairs and yet, in case she should see him before he reaches his room, he attempts all at once to at least act as if he is not trying to avoid her. Reaching his room however, sees the eternally youthful fae breathe a sigh of relief, shutting the door quietly behind him, one hand reaching in the same motion to pull off his shirt. He would require a new one for today, after all. The garment is tossed easily to the floor- Dorian continually failing to understand why he should hang it up at all when that was a servant's job. It is, perhaps, the scruffiest Dorian has ever looked. His hair was entirely askew in every direction, his jeans only just shrugged on and over his hips, shoes only semi done up and shirtless form already hunting for a replacement- a far cry from his usually immaculately presented form. That he has clearly had a busy evening remains to be seen, the man suddenly aware, for the first time, of eyes upon him.

He pivots near instantly atop the floor, a startled yelp forced from his lips at the sight of Samantha seated upon his bed, Dorian colliding with the wall before clutching at the window in an effort to keep himself upright.

"Samantha!"

Slate grey eyes narrow upon the woman a moment before he moves to hurriedly compose himself. He knows entirely why the woman is present within his room and yet for now at least he is content to pretend otherwise.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your company this morning? I am not entirely ready to receive you."

He gestures only briefly to his semi-clad form, as if distracting the woman might somehow delay what he is sure is to come.