[Orym looks startled by the sudden knock at the door, but he goes still and silent, holding his breath. He hears the call for Brontë, and he's clever enough to figure out what that means. He isn't surprised that Dorian gave a fake name, though somehow it doesn't feel fake. It feels like the person he'd been allowed to know, someone separate from the trappings of the life of nobility that took Dorian away from him for such long stretches.
He shakes his head.]
It's fine. Do you need to go?
[Orym hasn't moved away from him, not yet.] Dorian..? [Quieter, brow furrowing.] Should I call you Brontë?
no subject
He shakes his head.]
It's fine. Do you need to go?
[Orym hasn't moved away from him, not yet.] Dorian..? [Quieter, brow furrowing.] Should I call you Brontë?