His eyes come down at the question, however he does not reply. His mind is now abuzz with so many more puzzle pieces than there were mere moments ago. In almost full 'think mode' he simple looks back at the little one with a soft expression on his face. [i]'There is no point not to tell him about Julius. In fact it may help should he recognize anything about the man. If he has any direct involvement, the possibilities . . . .'[/i] He lets out a faint sigh as James takes his hand and begins leading him through the streets back to their temporary lodgings. So engrossed in his thoughts he takes no notice of the owner once more expressing her distaste in their perceived relationship in her subtle not so subtle manner as they pass through the lobby. 

Closing the door softly behind him Dorian walks over to the chair and removes his sir coat along with his cravat, placing them on the back so they do not wrinkle. He stretches a little, his full stomach still filling him with a warm sensation so he does not bother with starting a fire. Instead he moves over to the young one and takes him by the hand. Leading him to the bed he mounts it first, his back against the the pillows along the headboard. With a tug he pulls the newborn onto the covers in front of him, his back flush with Dorian's chest so he can wrap his arms around the younger one's middle. With another fain sigh he rests his head on the youth's shoulder and closes his eyes, his mind sorting out the details of just what information he needs to tell James and what has no baring on the situation. [i]'Well, what I do not believe has no baring. . . .'[/i] he muses.

When at last his eyes open his gaze is steady and sharp, the strength behind it returned to full power. “Julius, or Father Julius as he prefers, is the first spawn of one of my oldest. . . Acquaintances. She was a rather arrogant young thing when first I met her, and her first could not have appeared more different.” Slipping one of his arms from around the boy's waist he brings it back and up so he can run his fingers through the soft tresses. “At first glance he was a simple thing, following his Sire around like a devoted puppy. However after a time one would notice his eyes. . . .” His eyes cloud over with the memories his mind drudges up from his past. Memories he had long suppressed. “His gaze, hard to notice because of how he would keep it most often on his own feet, was far sharper and more adept at pick out details than any before him I have ever seen. I myself have keen eyes, but mine developed with practice and necessity, however his were innate. He never missed anything, he never was at a loss.”

His eyes focus on the present once more, though his thoughts remain in the past. He looks around the room, his gaze never settling on anything for more than a second. “After a mere hundred years with his sire, about thirty years after I met he, he left her side. After that day his eyes were never downcast again. He was strong, and learned swiftly, however he refused to take to any clan. He moved on alone until he made his first.” His fingers move smoothly along James's neck. “He'd picked one, very young, and he turned him. He picked the boy because he was damaged. He told me, in one conversation I had with him long after, to see what a twisted mind would do with eternity. He kept the child in his home, but he did not bond with him. Instead he watched him. . . .” Biting his lips Dorian looks down at James. “He did not care very much for any he made, however that first one was the most cruel. I doubt however that he made you. I would recognize his scent a mile away.”

Bringing his fingers up he tousles James's bangs. “You are no direct relation, and that girl is indeed very long from him, most likely bonded to another clan to not smell of him, if indeed she was made by him. However, since you share a scent, it is most likely you were made by one of his brood.” Shaking his head he looks to the window. “He has never taken to keeping track of them after they leave him, however, so he would be little aid in finding your Sire. . .”