Dark Hunters? This only seems to result in anther blank look from the handsome Frenchman, his head tilting slightly in the same manner a puppy might be given to turn its head in result to a curious sound. He has hardly ever heard of such a thing before, oblivious to his own experiences with them, assured the men responsible for his own capture had been bandits, the sort that plagued the roads in packs, searching for hapless travellers to rob. Normally someone of his stature would have been a far to inaccessible target and yet his lack of an appropriate guard had surely given them confidence. Not that it would assist them the moment he found them again- and he would find them. He had already displayed his skills with his blade to one of them, if need be he would do so for the other wretches that were responsible for his current living nightmare. As for dark hunters however, he is assured he has neither of heard of them, nor ever experienced them, features creasing in the smallest of frowns.

"Why would anyone seek to hunt darkness? I do not feel that is a truly tangible prey."

That he has, entirely, missed the point of her words remains to be seen, the girl proceeding to haul him after her in a manner decidedly outside his usual formality when meeting a foreign dignitary. How such a woman had ever found a husband he hardly knew, she was decidedly more....robust in her manner then most women Dorian had ever met. Her personality however was, potentially charming, her comely looks, as he had observed before, surely her saving grace. When he is finally allowed to cease is sprint from the park and the sound of the sirens grows dull he finds himself inclined to actually ask after the woman's name. She was an obscure creature, decidedly, and yet she was deserving of some reward for her assistance. Perhaps when he returned home he would send her a fine boar for her table- one he should be inclined to hunt for her himself if only to further signify his thanks for her assistance in navigating this ridiculous kingdom that seemed to break the very laws of science every passing moment. Her sudden assurance that they had no horses, or at least, the beasts were not common sees his attention snap readily back towards her, grey eyes finding her own, prepared to argue such a statement before she gestured to the aforementioned 'cars'. For several moments the young King merely allows himself to observe the racing, bear-like animals that seem fortunately incapable of removing themselves from the black path of pressed rock, the people within them seeming remarkably calm for the fact they had been consumed by them- the animals surely racing about in search of further prey. The frown upon his face only deepening.

"I see. We have no desire to ride one. We will walk."

Even despite the state of his feet the man found himself unwilling to allow himself to be consumed by the car. While the creature ran swiftly it also appeared to roar and growl for most of its stride, a perfectly abhorrent creature to his mind and one he finds himself holding little faith in, his lip merely turning upward in the barest hint of disgust before the woman speaks again and he finds himself lifting one hand upward to pinch the bridge of his nose in defeated disappointment

"First what? It matters not, do not tell me, we will discuss it later."

There is only so much newness the man is willing to take, so many of the things he sees let alone the words he hears so far outside the realm of normal that he finds himself becoming rapidly overwhelmed once more, a casual wave of his hand gesturing for the woman to continue all the same as she seemed to attempt to remember her own title. The curtsy she offers is met, once more, with the slight dip of his own head common between rulers- Dorian content to offer her that respect alone despite her mention of a Kingdom he is assured he has never heard off. His geography, he is sure, had been far superior to even the knowledge of his eldest brother and yet Narnia remains outside of that, a true embarrassment and yet not one he is willing to admit to, simply nodding his assurance as if he truly knew the location of it- lest he cause some degree of offense or she become aware of this educational flaw. Utterly oblivious to it's true, fictional status. Mother fuck?

"What is Mother Fuck?"

The name of a town? A Kingdom? A person? His features frown readily again once more, staring at this bizarre Lady Samantha before the reaches out to grasp him once more. She, as so many other beings within this kingdom, seemed determined to place her hands upon him- had they no manners? To touch him without his express permission was well outside protocol and yet the increase in the wailing of the police sees the man himself willing to forgo protocol as she proceeds to pull him into perhaps the ugliest tower he has ever been within- one filled with a never ending staircase he is powerless to do anything but follow her up before finding himself in what he can only assume is her bedroom. It was......horrific.

"Are you wretchedly poor?"

That such a thing might be well outside politeness to ask remains to be seen, Dorian entirely used to speaking openly about the state of other people's living, after all, it was, in his time, decidedly common and yet truly the man is inclined to believe he has found himself within some peasant's quarters. She had no furniture, no tapestries, no bath, what he can presume is her bed is so decidedly small it did not deserve comparison to his own while the rest of her room seemed to be filled with devices he did not comprehend and yet hardly appeared to offer any sense of the luxury of a Princess' private quarters. He had been in far more then one of those- this far outside the norm. Any further words the man may have had (and there were a great many) were silenced the moment the woman sought fit to shove him down and onto a terribly ugly chair.

"Do you frequently find it acceptable to lay hands upon your guests? Where are you getting that water!?"

It is his first true experience with a tap, some sort of...sorcery seeing it appear from a tubular device fixed to the wall and yet she was hardly required to pump it as one might a well â€" the water seeming to appear from nowhere as she places it in....something and puts it atop...

"Is that fire?!"

He is so entirely taken with the stove that he barely registers Lady Samantha kneeling down before him to attend to his feet- before the sudden and abrupt sting sees him jerk his foot widely away, very near tumbling of the chair entirely.

"What in the name of the Lord are you doing? That hurts!"

He was entirely used to having his feet washed, servants performed the task all the time and yet never had they proceeded to burn him with whatever befouled water this was, Dorian moving to deliberately pull his foot out of her each again, eyeing her critically several moments, before reluctantly handing it back, assured she would not dare make it sting again. He has never seen anything like this before, this....room, this furniture, half her possessions seeming to have uses he can only guess at as he continues to eye the room critically.

"Where are your ladies maids?"