[The cup's lid was rather fascinating and far preferable to continuing to look at Magnus while he said things he'd almost started to hope he'd never hear. Hope was something he knew better of, something that burned more acutely everytime it slipped through the chinks in his armor.

He'd started to set little masons to work breaking down all the little walls around his heart when Magnus had come to him, telling him he was going home, and while he'd been heartbroken then, he'd thought...maybe he'd return after doing whatever it was he'd needed to do. When he'd shown up again, Dorian had actually allowed himself to hope again...but he should have known better. He steels himself though, against the...emotions, the vain hope that this time might be different, the rising anger at his friends for encouraging to trust Magnus, that he'd never hurt him.

Solitude was preferable to this. Still, Magnus didn't even remember him. Even if he did, he had no intention of discussing this. With anyone other than his wine collection. He tapped an index finger against the paper side of his coffee cup and looked up, his face a careful mask of amicable indifference.]

You never mentioned a business, only being rather fond of woodcarving. Did you start this business with your father-in-law before or after you were wed?