In truth, the youthful looking Fae King had never truly considered all the ways in which his immortality could be circumnavigated. So many years of life had perhaps enforced some level of nonchalance in the man in that regard. He had lived, until now, a rather sheltered existence. He had missed or been spared many of the worlds atrocities and perhaps he is simply utterly naive in that regard. Whether or not he truly could die from blood loss had simply never occurred to him, nor had he truly held any belief Sebastian had lied to him. Why he had trusted the vampire so readily was unusual, even to himself, the Fae oblivious to the power the other man had held over him and yet with or without it, Dorian may well have been willing enough all the same. He had enjoyed his companion, trusted him, Dorian possessing a weakness in this regard perhaps, the Fae more willing to trust then he surely should be. Even Samantha's warnings seeming to lack the impact upon him they surely should have had, the man's head simply shaking once more.

"He wouldn't have."

He assures his companion again, frowning slightly, though his voice lacked no conviction in this. That they would, perhaps, be destined to disagree on this matter remained to be seen, Dorian content enough to let it slide. He had enjoyed himself, whatever the outcome, the Fae content to savour the memories of his evening all the same before Samantha's abrupt declaration that he was forbidden to leave the apartment at night saw both eyes lift upward. He had not been placed under house arrest in over five hundred years, not since his Mother had seen fit to forbid him from going to war with his elder brothers and father. She'd stationed guards outside his room for several days for fear he might somehow run off and join them. It had been a waste of her efforts truly, Dorian never having seen any need to seek glory in a battle he was ill-equipped to fight. He had seen war. Once. If he never saw it again it would be too soon. Venturing outside however, is a far less dangerous endeavour then battle, gaze narrowing upon the woman as she assures him he is correct in his assumptions.

"It seems we disagree on a few things this morning."

It is perhaps as close to a terse reply as the man is capable of giving the girl, the distraction of his forgotten promise seeming to dismiss the topic for now in the least, though Dorian is assured he will remember to bring it up once more- refusing to allow to woman to argue further as head leads her down stairs and into what he has learned is called the living room. An unusual name truly, for a room in which neither of its inhabitants truly counted as being alive and yet the topic of mortality had surely been explored well enough today. He leans easily against the kitchen bench, slate eyes held upon her as she seemed to contemplate her choices before lifting her nails to her lips, gnawing upon them like a savage beast (at least in his opinion).

"Samantha!"

It is perhaps the most horrified the man has ever sounded, his voice holding more outrage then it had the single and only time she had attempted to suggest he help wash dishes. One hand reaches out, catching her own firmly between his fingers, pulling it smoothly away from her lips. His free hand moves easily behind himself, fumbling in the back pocket of his jeans before producing a nail file. How he had come into ownership of such a thing remained to be seen, much less the efficiency with which he wielded it. Swordsmanship not his only talent as he expertly runs the file across her damaged nail, examining his work for several seconds before neatly finishing the edge and returning the file to his back pocket- releasing her hand.

"There is nothing pleasant about chewed nails in any sense of the word- it is a peasant habit. Men also dislike having the hands of women with bitten nails upon them- this I assure you of. We notice."

One eye lifts upward, daring the girl to argue with him, quite content to use her cat-man lover against her in this regard. If she would not cease to gnaw her nails for her own good, perhaps she would cease to do it for fear of displeasing her man. This rather abrupt, momentary storm seems to pass readily however, Dorian nodding in response to her choice. His arms fold easily across his chest, content to eye the girl for several moments, assessing her stance before he steps forward once more.

"Your posture is not terrible, you actually stand...decently. It could still be better but it is not appalling."

Well. It was almost praise. Dorian grinned easily before his hands reached to rest on her shoulders, encouraging them back and down all at once, straightening the girl ever so slightly as one hand moved to tilt her chin softly upward.

"There. That is how you should stand. Dignified and yet elegant. Head high, shoulders back and down. You should command a room's attention with your presence alone and yet as a woman that command should always have a softness about it, if you will. Not a weakness- never a weakness, but something distinctly feminine."

He could hardly teach her femininity, after all, he was rather....not female and yet he had seen such a thing employed often enough to at least encourage the same aura within herself.

"Now, see if you can walk to the far end of the room and back. Gracefully, Samantha. Like a Queen."