The word 'Were' means little to him, the ancient Fae content to believe this merely may be the man's ethnicity in the same manner some were Spanish or French, of what nation 'Were' is from he hardly knows and yet he has only recently learned the world is supposedly round as opposed to flat. It is her assurance her male lover is some sort of King that seems to capture Dorians interest far more readily. That this supposed consort holds far larger lands momentarily sees one eye lift ever so slightly.

"I don't suspect that would be difficult."

Her kingdom, to his knowledge so far, was, well, one room. He hardly means any impoliteness, indeed Dorian is used to speaking directly in all matters. After all, royalty is eternally right and eternally permitted to speak, that such a thing is not terribly polite has never occurred to him. After all, it is hardly said with malice. More so the situation at hand continues to baffle him. She was unwed to his man and yet she engaged in intimate activities with him? She must, Dorian himself was dressed in the mans pants which he can only assume were removed at some point by the girl in front of him and yet it is the oddity of this relationship that continues to startle him all the more.

"If he has far greater lands then what does such a union achieve on his end? Are your armies superior?"

Dorian, after all, is entirely a product of his time, the man assured that while affairs were purely for pleasure and amusement, marriages were acts of political gain. One was married to another to secure alliances, lands, armies or to produce an heir for a failing lineage. What Samantha gained from such a coupling was evidently clear- vastly superior lands. Yet what her supposed lover gained Dorian failed to see, her home was hardly a prize to his mind. Perhaps he was one of the few whom had truly been blinded by love and love alone. A rare thing, though one Dorian remains sceptical off all the same, dark stormy gaze held upon the girl now in anticipation of an explanation of political affairs. It was fortunate perhaps, that the curse had afflicted his own kingdom well before his Father had found a suitable bride for himself, Dorian having turned down several merely to spite the man and yet his Father had only grown more frustrated, threatening daily to choose without Dorians consent and yet as neither the eldest son, nor one with fully legitimate claims he had stood to be used as no more then a political pawn, wed to some minor Lord's daughter to assure peace in some township no one had ever heard off to be sure. Hmm, perhaps the curse had not been all bad.

He chooses, perhaps wisely, to make no further complaints in regards to his clothing or her mention of the barter system, something Dorian understood and yet had never been reduced too using, his attention instead returned to her explanation of her own blood. Ireland he has never truly heard of, New York equally as foreign to him and yet for not he merely nods as if such things make the most perfect of sense, refusing to appear more helpless then he is sure he already does. He continues to watch her as she moves about, eyeing the plates she places upon the otherwise utterly bare table. Was no one going to prepare anything? Was there no decoration? Her explanation on pizza or...cheese and bread sees him frown briefly towards her before the appearance of a moth seems to end any such conversation, Dorian moving to respond entirely as he believes he should- by eradicating the creature. Samantha's less then impressed visage sees the man watch as she crosses the room to pull the sword out of the wall, the man moving to correct her utterly incorrect method of holding the weapon before she demands he sit once more and some bizarre dinging sound sees him comply.

The exchange that occurs at the door is watched by the fae with utter awe. The servant seeming to have....boxed the food for some reason before Sam brings it over to place it on the table before him before declaring his sword her property.

"You cannot steal my sword. I shall merely take it back while you are sleeping. It is no good in your possession regardless, you are a woman."

That this is perhaps something of a loaded comment remains to be seen, Dorian having failed to anticipate how such a thing may be both incorrect and inappropriate in the modern day before turning his attention to the cheese pizza before him. It takes several attempts for the man to actually pick a slice up, watching Samantha for several moments before at last biting into it, seeming to consider it for several moments before moving to take another bite, nodding at last.

"We are not opposed to this."

Well. It's something in the least, the man seeming to actually enjoy the pizza.

"...and you say my people invented this?"

He pauses, waiting for some assurance before reaching for another slice, realizing only now how entirely hungry he actually was, his captors not having bothered to feed him before his attention returns to Sam once more.

"Where do we sleep?"