The customary greeting the vampire affords him, as always, sees the Fae revert to the role he had played for so long, his own head nodding slightly in acceptance of the words and by way of introduction, a gesture he had offered so many times over so many centuries, before his slate-hued gaze returns to the man as a whole. Sebastian's admittance that his chosen victim for the night was perhaps sub-par is met with a lingering amusement, Dorian's smile edging upward slightly more with the man's agreement. A look that is perhaps short lived in the moments that follow, the young woman tumbling to the floor between them, though neither man moves with any great haste to either catch or assist her- both simply staring towards her in surprise. The faintest of frowns moves to settle upon Dorian's features at the sight of the girl. Such drunkenness from a woman, in his day, would have been the height of improper. She would have brought utter disgrace to her family, her Father would have been shamed by her entirely and no eligible bachelor would have dared to associate himself with her. At least not until the gossip mill of scandal had moved on to some other poor girl, affair or unfortunate death. After all, life in his time had existed almost entirely of that. Birth, marriage and death. There was little in between. This modern world seemed, in the least, far more determined to celebrate the luxury of time and truly Dorian finds this may be an improvement on the old.

His gaze returns to Sebastian, the other man lamenting his own feelings in that moment, another simper working its way gently onto his features. There was something decidedly endearing, Dorian has found, about being in the company of someone whom remembered, someone old enough to understand the way of the world as it once had been. There was nothing left of the world Dorian remembered. Even he himself rapidly having come to discover how very obsolete even he was in such a city when so few understood and even fewer seemed to care about who he had been and who he still was. He adores Samantha in every way and yet there are times, truly, when he simply yearns for what he cannot have. For a time and place forgotten to the pages of history books. It is a precious thing indeed, to find the company of someone else whom themselves had existed within those pages. There is much, he thinks, he would like to ask Sebastian off. Though perhaps, as the vampire suggested, the woman was of some significance despite her disagreeable state. Their values at least, seeming to align in this. It would be unfortunate were the woman to find herself the victim of ruffians.

"No I suppose we cannot. Where did you get her from? Perhaps we might simply....put her back?"

His eyes are distracted, rather helplessly so, by the manner in which the vampire moves to run one hand through his hair. He did have pleasing hair after all, the vaguest stirring of want shifting within the Fae King, another myriad of less than innocent thoughts rather salaciously teasing at his mind before he becomes aware of Sebastian's voice once more. This question bringing a simper to his lips before his shoulders roll in an effortless, languorous shrug.

"I have always turned left each time I have left my home. Tonight, after I climbed out of my own window and fell into a decorative shrubbery- I turned right. That is entirely how I have come to be here. I have not been to this part of the city yet, I simply desired to see it for myself."

He pauses, briefly, contemplating his words for a moment and whether or not more should be afforded to them. He had, to some extent, been searching for the very man before him and yet for now at least he sees little need to offer him such knowledge. He gestures instead to the woman between them, his own form moving to position himself at her feet. Gaze running almost critically over her.

"Do you remember how it used to be?"

His voice is softer this time, contemplative, gaze still resting upon the woman as the smooth baritone of his accented words echo softly into the darkness all the same- eyes lifting at last to Sebastian's own.

"Women wore the longest dresses, in all colours you could imagine. Flirtation was an art form, the best of us could bring a woman to her knees with a smile offered at just the right time, or a stolen touch upon her arm or her elbow offered when no one was looking. Dancing was perhaps the ultimate form of seduction was it not? When you could tell all you needed to know of a woman by the way she danced. There was so little touching and yet such a thing only made the game all the more daring. How you would crave that first touch. So much of that has been lost."

He simply shakes his head. There was little good, he supposed, over lamenting what once was and yet Sebastian, surely- was old enough to remember. Old enough to miss it perhaps. Dorian allowing those memories to pass.

"I will assist you in carrying the girl, if need be, to somewhere safer and then perhaps if you have no other pressing business you might find yourself inclined to accompany me for a little- if it should please you."

It had not escaped the Fae's notice that the man had surely been denied his meal and yet Dorian is assured he can more than make up for such a thing a little later if need be, his fascination with Sebastian's fangs not nearly satisfied. Though it is not merely what the vampire can give that so inspires such an offer. He merely seeks his company, as he is, because he finds himself....fond of the man. He should not allow himself to indulge in it, surely, yet he had not indulged in anything in near 400 years. His gaze returns to linger upon the vampire now in some hope he might accept such an offer.