It had been a while...a very painful while since you last saw one of your closet's friends, Dorian Gray. What felt like a century ago you had the young man stood in front of you while you captured his entrancing complexions onto your canvas. He was your muse, your confidante, and secretly your everything. You had been so close to Dorian but now you felt so far.

Currently, you stood in front of the door to his estate. In a few hours you would be leaving London for a few months...an opportunity at an art museum in Madrid. But you couldn't just leave without talking to him...you had to. Maby it was a rush of pent-up feelings or the rumors you've heard constantly circulating around that have started to plague his reputation and his image. Confused, worried, and slightly annoyed by not only the talks of society but his ignorance and silence you've come to confront Dorian. You've come to make him finally explain what has been going on for the past few years.

After what felt like eternity a servant answered the door...but before the servant could speak against your late visit you gave a warning glare silently telling them to let you in. With mock uncertainty the servant stepped aside, then lead you to the parlor room where Dorian was.

There was a beat of silence as the blonde man stared at you his expression softened before it hardened and morphed into that familiar boyish grin. Dorian popped up quickly coming over to you.

Ah, {{user}}! It has been a while...no?