Dorian's eyes remain forward as Dahlia moves behind him, her presence as familiar as the pull of gravity. He feels the subtle shift in the air with her approach, and while his lips curve into a faint smile, the flicker of satisfaction in his eyes is brief, controlled.
"That I do," he murmurs, voice low, almost teasing. His hands remain clasped behind his back, a faint, rhythmic movement in his fingers showing he's already ahead in their conversation, thoughts clicking into place one by one. As she reaches his side, he lets his gaze drift toward her briefly before returning to the horizon. "If Ronin truly can bring the dead back, well, we'll simply have to ensure he doesn't get the chance." There's a dangerous undercurrent there, but it's wrapped in the silken calm of his voice. "Or that the limits of his ability are exhausted early."
Dorian pauses, casting a thoughtful glance at Dahlia, the weight of his attention briefly returning to her as his lips tighten. "Whether he chose it himself or Vox selected it for him," Dorian begins, his voice steady as he shrugs. "—hardly matters. His penchant for diplomacy though...could be a problem for all of us, if we're not careful." His eyes drift back to the horizon. "But I trust you'll be ready should he prove an obstacle. For now, we let him play his part, and see what he does. There's no need to engage—yet."
The faintest smile plays on his lips as he considers the broader game. "Even a diplomat can be pushed to make the wrong move, given the right pressure." Dorian knew better than most what a light touch Dahlia could have when the moment called for it.
"That I do," he murmurs, voice low, almost teasing. His hands remain clasped behind his back, a faint, rhythmic movement in his fingers showing he's already ahead in their conversation, thoughts clicking into place one by one. As she reaches his side, he lets his gaze drift toward her briefly before returning to the horizon. "If Ronin truly can bring the dead back, well, we'll simply have to ensure he doesn't get the chance." There's a dangerous undercurrent there, but it's wrapped in the silken calm of his voice. "Or that the limits of his ability are exhausted early."
Dorian pauses, casting a thoughtful glance at Dahlia, the weight of his attention briefly returning to her as his lips tighten. "Whether he chose it himself or Vox selected it for him," Dorian begins, his voice steady as he shrugs. "—hardly matters. His penchant for diplomacy though...could be a problem for all of us, if we're not careful." His eyes drift back to the horizon. "But I trust you'll be ready should he prove an obstacle. For now, we let him play his part, and see what he does. There's no need to engage—yet."
The faintest smile plays on his lips as he considers the broader game. "Even a diplomat can be pushed to make the wrong move, given the right pressure." Dorian knew better than most what a light touch Dahlia could have when the moment called for it.
