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Change, real change, it was messy, and impolite.
It took the digestion of things, took letting them tumble around in the conscious and subconscious alike long enough to separate the grain from the chaff. Dorian didn't have the energy or the time to devote to that just yet.
And so the lessons he may have learned over his time in the other Darrow were yet to be considered, and Dorian had instead found himself making all of the appropriate telephone calls, apologizing to too many people in order to keep his job, and then disappearing into his apartment with his beau for long enough that he eventually missed the feel of the sun on his face.
So he cleaned himself, and dressed himself, and put himself back together and he spent the afternoon in the park, catching up on work. And then, when it got dark -- far too soon anymore for his taste -- he found his way to Semele's.
Dorian liked Semele's. They didn't refer to wine as the red stuff or the white stuff? at Semele's. Plus, Derek Hale was decent on the eyes and looking was no sin.
He chattered with the woman working the bar as he peeled off his gloves and scarf; he was bright, perhaps a bit too bright, with the edge of his smile turned up in a way that was a bit too thin and artificial. It had yet to be mellowed by real emotion that day, though Dorian kept his heart open to the possibility.
"What do I want?" he said to her, when she asked, musing out loud. "Maker, it would have to be brandy, wouldn't it? Leave me the bottle, please. You know that I'm good for it."
It took the digestion of things, took letting them tumble around in the conscious and subconscious alike long enough to separate the grain from the chaff. Dorian didn't have the energy or the time to devote to that just yet.
And so the lessons he may have learned over his time in the other Darrow were yet to be considered, and Dorian had instead found himself making all of the appropriate telephone calls, apologizing to too many people in order to keep his job, and then disappearing into his apartment with his beau for long enough that he eventually missed the feel of the sun on his face.
So he cleaned himself, and dressed himself, and put himself back together and he spent the afternoon in the park, catching up on work. And then, when it got dark -- far too soon anymore for his taste -- he found his way to Semele's.
Dorian liked Semele's. They didn't refer to wine as the red stuff or the white stuff? at Semele's. Plus, Derek Hale was decent on the eyes and looking was no sin.
He chattered with the woman working the bar as he peeled off his gloves and scarf; he was bright, perhaps a bit too bright, with the edge of his smile turned up in a way that was a bit too thin and artificial. It had yet to be mellowed by real emotion that day, though Dorian kept his heart open to the possibility.
"What do I want?" he said to her, when she asked, musing out loud. "Maker, it would have to be brandy, wouldn't it? Leave me the bottle, please. You know that I'm good for it."
