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Dorian can't help but let out a small little laugh at that. Well. They really are two of a kind.

"Obviously my monstrosity pales to yours, what with the fact that you're old as dirt and all, but I'm the same. I was...not a nice man for most of my life. I've got the portrait to prove it. Even now, what with me signing onto the Barge and all, I still don't know if I could call myself nice or even good."

He pauses for a moment before admitting, "But the biggest mistake of my life happened when someone did something destructive and I just watched. I can't let that happen again."

"I am sorry," he tells him and it's genuine. "I think many of the wardens here think that of themselves. That they are monsters. That they have done something they need to make up for."

He reaches over, places a cool, gentle hand on Dorian's arm. "I wonder how many of them are actually right. I would guess not many."

And Dorian places his hand on top of Godric's, mostly so he could give it a little squeeze. He'd guess not many as well. But them...well, they're different.

"Everybody is their own worst critic," Dorian sighs. "And it's easy to see your flaws when you're looking for them."

He doesn't move his hand away. Instead, his fingers gently drop down, pressing lightly against his pulse there. His heartbeat. It's a soothing gesture for Godric, who finds comfort from his humans in small ways.

"I have had two thousand years to be flawed," he tells him. "And I have only spent the past decade or so looking for them. When I say I was a monster, Dorian, I was truly a feared creature. I would follow soldiers at war so I could slaughter them at will and no one would miss them."

Idly, Dorian wonders what's worse. Senseless mass slaughter or his sort of older monstrosity: a cold, calculated, focused desire to ruin one single person at a time. Both awful in their own way.

"I should show you my portrait one of these days," he muses. "Because when I say I was a monster, I'm just as serious and sincere as you are."

"I believe you," he assures him. "I believe that you have done things in your life that you're not proud of. That would make you a monster. But - I also believe that you are here to make it better. To do better."

He thinks of the reason he came here. To talk to him about Sweeney. How he trusted Dorian to do the right thing and help, even though they have only met a few times.

Such nice words and they barely know each other. Dorian wonders if Godric would say something like that to anybody. He doubts it.

He starts to rub small circles with his thumb on Godric's hand, enjoying the feeling of the cool flesh beneath his.

"In that case, that goes double for you. After all, I think simply by comforting me, you've proven wonderfully that you're also here to make it better."

"I certainly try. Dancy and I were paired a year ago," he tells him. "And I would do anything to make sure she escapes and lives a better life. But more than her, there are people here I am desperate to help."

He sighs. "I used to think that I was here to help a life in order to make myself feel better. But - well, that's not the truth any longer."

"Now you're just here to help a life because it's the right thing to do," Dorian muses. "That's admirable in and of itself. And a state that I don't think a lot of people here have reached yet."

He certainly hasn't.

"No," he corrects. "No, I don't know if I'm there yet. But I am here to help Dancy specifically. Not to save myself. I don't know if I would do it for someone else, though - once she graduates, I plan on staying."

"Considering that you're planning on staying, I feel even more confident saying that you're here because it's the right thing to do," Dorian teases. "I'm here for a deal to be filled. When it does, I've got no idea if I'll even stay on."

"That doesn't make you any better or worse," he assures him, fingers brushing against his wrist again, feeling his pulse, even though he can hear it in his ears. "But don't get ahead of yourself. It can take years."

Godric's fingers against his wrist send butterflies down Dorian's spine. And, in that moment, he knows the likelihood that he'll do something stupid in this conversation has just greatly enhanced.

Fuck.

"I can wait years," Dorian says, with a little shrug. "I've got plenty of experience with waiting, after all. You take a small step, see how it goes, then take another small step afterwards."

He adjusts his position slightly so that he can rest his free hand on Godric's thigh.

Godric knows what he's doing, and so he doesn't move Dorian's hand. "You can't go at your pace," he reminds him. "You must go at theirs. Whoever you're paired with. Dancy has tested me many times in that way. I push her too far and she retreats. I don't push her hard enough and she stagnates. It's an often infuriating dance."

Ostensibly, they're talking about wardens and inmates. But Dorian also senses that they might be talking about something else as well.

"That's the problem," he says, with a small laugh. "Because I know I'm egotistical enough to think that my pace is the best pace of them all—no matter what the circumstances are."

As if to prove that, he leans in to give Godric a kiss on the lips. And, if Dorian detects even a hint of willingness, that kiss is gonna have tongue.

Godric allows the kiss, opening up to him, trailing fingers along his jaw. But he pulls back after a moment, brushing his thumb against his bottom lip. "You are very charming, Mr. Gray."

He knows that he's still reeling from the loss of so many. From his conversation with Archer. From everything that he's gone through. Still, this seems a good distraction.

He's charming and he knows it. Dorian can't help but grin as he gives Godric's thigh a small squeeze.

"Call me Dorian," he says. Godric isn't stopping him. Dorian's going to continue. He leans in for another kiss, this time slipping in even more tongue.

Godric absolutely won't be doing that.

But what he does is draw him close, encouraging him. He's a blessing, honestly, this arrogant human, and Godric's not about to give him up.

"We should go inside," he suggests when he finally pulls back.

"We should," Dorian grins. "My room or yours?"

Because in his mind, this will very soon progress past kissing.

"Yours," is the easy reply. Godric shares a cabin with Annie and he hasn't told her yet about Dorian, which means that he's not sure if she's out or not. And that's not a conversation he wants to have just yet. Not when something needs to be this quick and simple.

"Mine it is," Dorian says. He pushes himself up from his seat and gestures for Godric to follow him. There's a moment before he teases, "Try not to get my blood on the furniture."

Sheets can be easily cleaned. Couches? Not so much.

Godric picks up his sketchbook and tucks the pencil behind his ear. "I am two thousand years old, Mr. Gray," he says with a long suffering sigh. "Please give me more credit than that."

But he will follow wherever he goes.

"Two thousand years old but you've never met anyone like me," he teases.

When they reach Dorian's room, Dorian opens his door, gesturing for Godric to enter. His room enters into a hallway with multiple doors. One leads to a kitchenette, one leads to a bathroom, one leads to his bedroom. There's also a hatch in the ceiling, leading to Dorian's attic.

The bedroom is a mixture of old and new. Old paneling, old flooring, some old furniture. New lighting, a new rug, new sheets and bedding. And once they're inside, Dorian moves to pull Godric towards him as he kisses him absolutely filthy.

After taking just a few seconds to get a good look at his cabin, Godric loops arms around his neck at the kiss. His fangs drop and he forgets to be careful, dragging sharp teeth along his lip and tasting blood for the first time with a gasp and a bitten back moan.

He backs up almost instantly and hesitates, wanting that explicit consent from him as he brings his fingers up, touching fingertips to his lips.

Godric gets a moan of pleasure from Dorian as he feels those fangs scrape on his lip. He's missed that. Christ, how he's missed that sensation.

Dorian briefly frowns when Godric pulls away. But his brain quickly catches up and he manages to figure out what's going on.

"Drink from me as deeply as you want. I don't mind. You're not the first vampire I've fucked so I know what to expect."

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