Had the woman not been gripping his ankle Dorian is entirely sure he would have attempted to discover exactly where these 'pipes' went, the notion of a faucet as equally as fascinating as her assurance that she used the 'stove' for cooking. Had she truly mastered the encapsulation of fire? For a moment Dorian is inclined to look towards the woman attending to his feet with utter awe. This, he thinks, is surely why she had attained the rank of Queen. If she could harness fire to her will then surely there was no stopping her! It was utterly remarkable and truly were any of his brothers or sisters alive today he would surely have made a point of regaling them with this tale. How she intended to fit an entire beast on her 'stove' to roast it though remained to be seen, it looked small and yet perhaps it somehow.....expanded to grand proportions although given the size of the room Dorian finds himself scowling slightly, flinching once more at the manner in which whatever she was placing on his feet seemed to sting again before she seemed determined to bandage them. He has never not worn shoes, not for as long as he can remember, the skin on his feet soft from endless years spent covered. His run today had been one of the very few times in which he had been exposed to any true harshness and his feet had been an unfortunate causality. Grey eyes continue to linger on the girl herself now, Dorian finally calm enough to actually observe his companion fully. She was, as he had first stated, rather pretty- at least by his own standards. She was slender, more petite then he has known most women to be and yet he hardly found he disliked it. Her clothing left much to be desired and yet perhaps it is merely a....trend of sorts in this kingdom. It was improper and immoral and yet all at once he cannot say he is totally opposed to what he can see of her. How confusing this place was. How confused he was within it. His gaze moves away from his neatly bandaged feet as she speaks once more.

"Shower? As in...a shower of rain?"

He was...trying in the least, the man not totally incorrect in this regard as he moved to watch the woman retrieve something from the kitchen (the kitchen is one area he can still identify despite his vastly limited experience within it), grey eyes narrowed at the bizarre cup she placed before him, sliding it towards him along with a bowl of what appeared to be....sugar. A far more refined, whiter sugar then he is sure he has ever seen, the man leaning over the bowl a moment to examine it before turning his attention to the tea he has been presented with.

"We take tea when we are sick, it is taken with citrus and we do not put sugar in tea."

There is a moment of decidedly long silence, Dorian attempting allowing his gaze to flick from the sugar, to his tea, to Samantha and back again.

"Are you sick?"

Why else would they be having tea? He gestures for the woman to go ahead, content to watch her before he makes any attempt to drink his own, her assurance she has no ladies maids only seeing his head shake softly once more. How the girl got about during the day he hardly knew. Who dressed her? Made her bed? Prepared an evening fire? Brought her meals? Surely she did not do these things herself? Her questions, thankfully, seek to distract him from his own thoughts now, gaze moving from his tea to her own.

"No- I have nowhere to stay other than here and as such I shall require your hospitality for at least tonight. How far are we from Italy? How many days ride?"

That he does not, truly, anticipate that he is not even within Europe anymore is perhaps evidently clear now, Samantha's final question seeing him frown once more, one hand reaching up to rub at the back of his injured head, the truly first almost.....vulnerable look seeming to touch his gaze a moment.

"I.....I don't know."

In truth, he simply didn't. It was outside his capacity to understand, his voice hesitant now as he made some attempt to explain.

"I went outside, I....hadn't been outside in a very long time, I don't know how long I stopped counting. I went to the forest outside my castle, I used to hunt there a lot, I knew it well but it had changed. It's where I got attacked by the bandits though you called them another name- the.....how you say? Dark Hunter? There were many of them, they spoke a language I do not know, I tried to explain who I was and ask if any spoke my language but they didn't- they had weapons I have never seen. I remember them and one of them had a power, like the fae, I thought only fae had powers, fae and vampire but it seems I was wrong. I remember being tired and I remember nothing after that."

He shook his head softly once more, the memory of that black, oppressive fog that weighed him down with tiredness seeming to cloud his thoughts even now as he shook it.

"When I woke up I was in a place that was cold and I had no shoes. I think they may have stolen my shoes. It was very dark, I wasn't there very long though, one of the bandits came to get me, I don't know where he wanted me to go with him but no one had taken my sword so I stabbed him, he died and I ran- I found a way outside and I ended up in the park and then you found me."