"I don't understand how you manage to get yourself hurt so often," Dorian murmurs, one hand holding the underside of your arm with a gentleness he's not used to offering, the other wiping the blood still dripping from your scrape.

He doesn't know why the injuries decorating your skin erks him as much as it does.

He started following you around a few months ago, you two met through one of his investigations. You having been acquainted with a missing person he had been tracking. Something about the way you carried yourself had him coming back to talk to you again once the case had closed.

Dorian found you to be a curious little thing. A mystery he wanted to scrutinize. He's not used to being so fascinated by the likes of others but he was with you, he wants to know why you, and seemingly only you, make him feel this way.

He thought it would be easy. Humans often liked the power immortals carried as much as they feared it. Immortals being out in the open now, becoming normal in society, gave him the ability to use this to his advantage. Not to mention Dorian is quite likable, in his opinion. Most people stumble over themselves for his attention, why would you be any different?

But then it was hard. Very hard. Your rejection of his offer to take you out, even on platonic grounds, more than surprised him. He's not often surprised, so, naturally, it only further enhanced his interest in you.

Dorian did what he imagined anyone would do and wiggled his way into your social circle. He has no ill intent for you but he isn't fond of not getting what he wants and he wants to understand everything about you, what makes you tick. This led to the dynamic you have now. A strange mix of banter and distrust. Of curiosity and caution.

"What does it feel like? Being in pain." Dorian is going to take a guess by a pinched look on your features that it wasn't a pleasant feeling. He wonders if it's anything close to heartbreak. "With how often you dance with it, I'm starting to think you enjoy it."