DORIAN
Fucking Rosencrantz, sending him to the wrong place...again. That man was going to get an earful when Dorian got back. More over, Torchline wasn't exactly his favorite place. It was hot. Hot meant he had to dress more casually. Not that he didn't look good - oh no, he looks positively sublime in his his breezy linen shirt with his sleeves perfectly rolled and tan shorts, if he did say so himself. But gods he would kill to be able to wear one of his usual suits.
At least it wasn't terribly hard to figure out where Amalia was on is own. He arrived at the Torchline Inn, a bright bouquet of flowers in hand, as well as a bottle of rather fine wine. The innkeeper was kind enough to direct him to her room with a charming smile and slip of valuable bobble. And it was thus that he found himself standing outside a door, with flowers, waiting for a woman to answer. Talk about a situation he never thought he would find himself in again.
Dorian rapped his knuckles against the door then and waited.
At least it wasn't terribly hard to figure out where Amalia was on is own. He arrived at the Torchline Inn, a bright bouquet of flowers in hand, as well as a bottle of rather fine wine. The innkeeper was kind enough to direct him to her room with a charming smile and slip of valuable bobble. And it was thus that he found himself standing outside a door, with flowers, waiting for a woman to answer. Talk about a situation he never thought he would find himself in again.
Dorian rapped his knuckles against the door then and waited.
I don't treat people badly,
I treat them accordingly
