[h2]Dorian[/h2]
[Upstairs]



A ghostly sound rings throughout the tavern, the slow heavy cry of large old creaking doors echoed from upstairs. Dismissed by regular patrons and staff it was followed by the expected tapping of fancy shoes amidst a confident purposeful stride.

From above, an intense gaze sweeps over the patrons of the tavern below. Piercing brown eyes gathering up information.
Leaning upon the railing with one hand, Dorian proudly stands, posture perfect, dressed in the finest elegant dark suit perfectly fitted and styled. 

His lips are ever so softly stained with a hint of red and life from the undoubtably rare exquisite wine that swirled the edges of the clear crystal glass in his free hand.

His presence held with it an air of regal importance and sophisticated mannerism, his charming face almost expressionless except for the slightest signs of a pleasant approving smile.