[He can tell that she's nervous, reads it in the brief closing of her eyes and the sudden changing of her mind about a drink, and it's about what he expected. If he liked her less, he might press through such delicate and apprehensive feeling and to the end he wants. As it is, he'll make his way to the drink cart at the edge of the island in the middle of the kitchen, and pour them two glasses of bourbon, neat. Doubles. There won't be much pleasure in this if he can't find a way to help put her at least somewhat at ease.

He picks up the glasses when he's done and joins Eloise at the side of the room again. Offering one over, he waits until she takes it, and then reaches for her free hand. Dorian gives her a playful tug, and then leads them both over to the loveseat in the center of the suite's sitting room.]

I don't bite, you may be happy to know. [Not unless asked. Sometimes. Once they're seated, Dorian takes a short sip of his drink, pausing to savor, before approaching the subject that started all of this in a calm, and neutral manner. His tone and demeanor remain warm.]

Have you done anything like this in the city yet? Or had sex of any kind with anyone?

[He suspects not, but it's an easy way to gauge how to press forward, to get her thinking about it in a direct way, and potentially a means of stoking more curiosity and desire alongside the nerves.]