The woman seemed to possess significantly more faith within his own skills then he himself surely did, Dorian eyeing her momentarily with some measure of amusement. It was pleasant, perhaps, that such a women held such a high opinion of his swordsmanship and yet he hardly knew her, indeed he had met her only moments ago, his silvery gaze narrowing slightly in a momentary consideration of just how almost overly eager she seemed to engage his attention. It was unusual, if nothing else and yet most American women seemed unusual to him, the Fae King struggling to truly understand what was considered normal behaviour in any sense of the word. She steps abruptly closer to him, his thoughts shifting now to focus upon her proximity. Aged though he was he was still very much a man, incapable of ignoring her entirely as one finger so coyly moves to wrap about a strand of his brunette hair, the gesture almost endearing and yet foreign to him all the same. Such things, after all, are reserved entirely for the bedroom. Even flirtation was best left to closed doors, Dorian's world filled with little more than shy glances or coy words whispered from behind a fan. Such overt and open attempts at seduction were bemusing to him.

Any true apprehension however is swayed from him with those faint touches of her own power as she asks again for somewhere private, lacing her fingers through his own in a gesture almost intimate as he moves to take the lead as requested. He hardly knew of any indoor venue with which to entertain the woman, his wanderings however had at least afforded him the knowledge of the rather pleasant garden he moves to guide her too now, pulling her softly behind him as she swings her hand in an almost playful manner. He turns to face her only once they are safely within the confines of the space, one eye lifting slightly as he inquires as to whether this is suitable for...whatever it was she seemed to desire. Perhaps she hardly cared for the outdoor setting and yet Dorian remains reserved in at least some fashion. Old habits remain deeply ingrained after all, the woman decidedly intriguing, his body entirely willing enough to respond to her and yet there is a hesitation within him all the same. He had not survived so very long after all, through being utterly foolish.

Her gaze meets his own again, that delicate wash of power twisting so smoothly within his mind as she suggests he make himself comfortable, her fingers lacing with his shirt as she drags her fingers across it and he simply finds himself nodding. As if it is an entirely sensible idea. He moves to seat himself upon the grass, reaching to grasp the young woman's hand once more, encouraging her to sit down beside him. The sun was rather pleasant, his gaze closing for a moment, relishing the warmth as his fingers felt the grass beneath him. How long had it truly been since he had felt the grass? Why was he sitting on the grass at all? It is an unconscious thing, truly, the single action of having closed his eyes if even for a moment have weakened, if not broken, whatever hold Edie had achieved in that moment, Dorian frowning rather abruptly before his features move to smooth once more. His action is assured now as he reaches to grasp the hem of her shirt between his long fingers, tugging her suddenly towards him, silvery gaze lingering upon her form as a smile finds his lips once more.

"Do you know what I find strange?"

There is a distinct tease to his words, his fingers toying still with the hem of her shirt, a chuckle rising softly within his throat.

"I have been around for a long time, there is much I know of women you see, I know your words say one thing- and your body entirely another. Which causes me to wonder, I think, exactly what it is you want? Because I am assured it is not me."

His gaze lifts rather abruptly to her own then. His words, this time, far more demanding as he pulls himself up and onto his feet, stepping back from the woman now- the fae, it seemed, having clued on to the woman's desires. At least, she is, he is sure, after something he has not anticipated. Perhaps she was one of these bandits, his gaze narrowing once more.

"Who are you?"