What a truly curious being this man was! While perhaps they were given to share a species it would seem they were given to share little else, Dorian merely left staring once more as the man speaks about something or other being over his head. For several moments the ancient Fae finds himself inclined to glance upward- as if truly anticipating to see something before those silver eyes fall back upon the rather pretty individual before him. If he should be so forced by his roommate to be outside and distracted from his lack of his lover it is perhaps not unfortunate that he might at least be given to the company of someone agreeable to his gaze. Why on earth the Fae before him so seemed content to refer to him as 'man' he hardly knew and yet once more this was perhaps written off as a modern custom he did not yet truly grasp. That he had succeeded in correctly identifying the joke the other man had made however sees a return of that all-too pleasant simper to his features, Dorian momentarily proud of his efforts in this regard at so having begun to master at least one social norm. He had, once, been the very epitome of language and social graces. It had been necessary, after all, within the Courts and Palace that had so been his home. Within this world he was strikingly out of his depth and yet he had been adaptable once, he simply need learn to be so again. Although the act of winking baffled him still.

"When you tell it next time we shall remember to laugh."

He nods once more, that simper still upon his features. Dorian given to good nature even despite his perhaps decidedly high calibre upbringing. The months he had spent within this city having so managed to take the edge off his previously demanding behaviour. In fact, over the past few weeks the Fae King had settled decidedly into a more normal existence even if much of his language use continued to fall in and out. The man sometimes inclined to forget entirely what year it was and that most hardly knew whom he was- something he had both come to love and loath in near equal measure. He moves to make some attempt to re-arrange his sodden clothing into something far more respectable, affording his shirt with much the same glare as he had earlier fixated upon his new companion for the humour the man had seemed to take in his own misfortune. Royalty, after all, was not entirely used to being laughed at. The affronted look of the other man at the momentary glimpse of the marks upon his neck is hardly noticed by Dorian himself, the King brushing the sand from his arms with due care before seeking to inquire as to exactly where the Fae before him was from. The answer however, was clearly not one he had anticipated, his features frowning slightly once more.

"Tennessee? I have not heard of this Kingdom, though nor do I know this Tuatha Monarchy you speak off. Forgive me, I am still acquainting myself with the modern way of things. This House of Tuatha must have been after my time."

That he has mistaken 'Tuatha' to be a last name in the same sense as any House of important lineage is perhaps evidently clear. Dorian believing entirely it to be much as the House of Borgia, Orsini or his own Aragona- royalty or nobility beyond the mere world of the Fae. Monarchy to his own species and Monarchy to the rest of the world a term he has not yet fully learned to differentiate. He offers his apology in this all the same, after all, it was something of a slight, surely- to fail to recognise a House of an importance and yet all his years spent confined as he had been had so drastically limited his own knowledge on just how the world had changed in the centuries he had missed. His curiosity however, readily moves to the sea creature that had so been the cause of his distress, watching with no small measure of intrigue as the other Fae moves to crouch down. Ah, how bold he was! The manner in which it is gently held towards him sees the silver gaze of the man widen ever so slightly in hesitation, attention falling upon the odd rock that the man before him seemed to be attempting to explain.

"You mean to tell me it is alive?"

This, he is sure, is a decidedly ludicrous thought- along with the very notion he might desire to actually touch it- his hesitation surely clear even despite his newfound companions gentle coaxing. His own hand extends ever so slightly hovering just above the starfish within the man's own.

"It won't bite me will it?"

He can hardly see any teeth upon the creature and yet nor had he believed it to be alive but until moments ago, Dorian inclined to believe the other man if only for the notion it hardly seemed a topic upon which to lie about. The King, at last, allows his own fingers to grace that rough, hard surface, the softest of simpers tracing his lips once more. Dorian decidedly captivated by even the simplest of beauties- after all, they had been denied to him so long. He would remember this- Starfish. His hand withdrawing from it.

"Je vous remercie"

The French lyrics fall so easily from his lips, affording the man a simple thank you for his efforts, allowing him to return the starfish to the pool of water it so inhabited.

"I understand very little of what you say with this talk of Tennessee and oysters but I find you agreeable. What is your name?"

Dorian, after all, has always been a decidedly bold creature when it comes to certain things- the man having little care for telling the either entirely what he should think of him.

Dorian Aragona