His Royal Highness, Prince of Italy
There was a sort of predatory grace to the undead vampire as Sebastian finally made his entrance, perhaps it was the very knowledge of Dorian's own unease that had prompted a far more protective and distinctly vampiric side of the Englishman to the surface. He was all but silent, at least initially, his gaze sweeping over the small gathering only to note the very gown upon the female witch in question. There was something undeniably tantalizing of the fashion her neckline seemed altogether non-existent, exposing far more of her breasts then, admittedly, Sebastian had seen since committing himself entirely to his now husband. She, perhaps, seemed equally aware of the weight of his gaze, her blue eyes but briefly raising to meet his own stare and yet, neither were particularly prone to comment. Instead, Sebastian purposefully tore his gaze from her skin, announcing his own greeting to the table at large. He moved all too easily to the seat at his husband's side, settling into its comfortable embrace as his crystalline gaze briefly turned to survey the Fae Monarch, clearly reassuring himself that the brief time in which he'd left the group alone had hardly resulted in any harm to his lover. Sebastian was hardly oblivious to the way Dorian so seemed to relax with his presence and yet, he hardly commented upon it. Rather, it was Brennan that earned the entirety of Sebastian's attention.
There was an undeniable hint of skepticism to his voice as Sebastian inquired after this notion that Brennan was, somehow, a pirate. His eyebrow rose at the very sound of that clearly Irish lit, that roguish grin prompting but a faint one upon the usually gracious vampire's features. He suspected, truly, that it was the accent and the use of those distinctly British words that had prompted Dorian to come to the conclusion that he was somehow a corsair. He hardly saw a reason to comment upon it, however, the vampire merely muttering a soft sound of acknowledgment, "Mmm." It was the sound of that soprano voice, however, that drew the weight of his gaze, the vampire easily reaching for his own tea, already assured Charles had seen to it that it was made exactly the way that he liked it. His eyebrows, however, furrowed ever so slightly at the young witch's mention of their gardens. It was hardly an abnormal observation - many who passed through their estate tended to note the very lushness of the grounds and yet, few ever put the very connection together that it was Dorian's doing, much less that it was the result of the fae King's affinity. He regarded that witch with a certain level of suspicion, particularly if the woman happened upon the true veracity of Dorian's power.
His lips pressed together in a small line behind his teacup and yet, Sebastian hardly intervened, certainly not wishing to raise any further attention to Dorian's gift. He was aware, all too innately, of that flutter to his husband's heart at that moment, that beat all but doubling in merely seconds. His gaze narrowed ever so slightly, drifting intently between Dorian and their guests with that all but heightened awareness that something was amiss. That near spilling of tea alone prompted a hint of worry, if only for how distinctly rare it was for such clumsiness to beset the otherwise graceful Monarch. That rush of red to his lover's cheeks, however, was at least assuring that watever was amiss was certainly not enough to coax an immediate violent reaction from the vampire, even as his husband so rushed to compose himself in some fashion, scooting in his chair further away from the young witch in a fashion Sebastian was entirely attentive to. The very volume to Dorian's voice caused his eyebrow to raise as his gaze turned attentively towards his lover, that concern surely obvious within the depths of his crystalline gaze. That reassuring simper Dorian offered him was, in fact, hardly comforting in the slightest and yet, there was no denying that, whatever was amiss, was surely that young witch's fault.
He leaned back in his seat, simply watching the young witch with an almost cool gaze as Dorian requested that book that had prompted their visit in the first place. Frankly, the sooner the book was delivered, the sooner they could leave and the better things would certainly be, as far as Sebastian was concerned. Still, it was a vague effort to be a pleasant host that caused his attention to turn back towards Brennan. "Dorian said you were cursed? We fear that our book might not have the answers you're looking for but, hopefully, it might help with you...predicament." It was, admittedly, a touch unanticipated that it was a warlock under the sway of a hex when they were usually the species to cast such spells, to begin with. Admittedly, a part of him was almost inquisitive of it and yet, Dorian had suggested it had something to do with demons and dark magic - affairs in which he most certainly did not want his husband involved within.