[b]Dorian[/b]
[Upstairs]

A sudden exhale of a warm held breath ran out over tinted, wine-cooled lips as Dorian let out sigh reflective of his disproval for what his  eyes lay upon. 

He sat upstairs in his favoured seat, one that offered a hidden view over the tavern floor below. One foot rested upon the other knee, an empty glass on the low table before him and a soon-to-be empty glass twirling in his hand.

The sight of that 'savage' whom was toying with his bouncer stirred a nerve within. Uncivilised and unpredictable, he could only be grateful that they left. The further he was from Sophia the better, he looked towards Sophia and Willow just as they embraced. The warming sight only reiterating his own empty coldness. 

If Sophia was on the floor it's because she was keen to work, this left Dorian caught in between the grasp of wanting customers and wishing no one else came.

But what's a business without clients. Placing the empty glass down on the table Dorian retreats back to his office, the heavy doors closing with a loud creek.