"Out with you," The first three words uttered. All that'd been heard was the twisting of the doorknob -- why, it wasn't even certain the door was open yet -- and that was enough for our young Dorian to hiss the antithesis of a greeting.

'Young.' It was standard. It meant nothing, not now. But there was no other word to use.

In a choked, distressed cry, he denied his visitor again. "Out!" Or something that mimicked the word. He turned to confront them, finally.