[In this specific instance, he's glad for his perfect memory. Dorian commits the image of his aura to mind as soon as it arrives.

The picture is disturbing, fascinating and beautiful all at once. It's also confirmation of what he already knew: the portrait captures the worst parts of his history, but not his living and breathing persona.

Perhaps he'll paint it and hang it next to his picture. The modern truth set against his legacy. It would be fitting.

But that's for later.]

I could identify all the tears by names and dates if I cared to. [Still, getting this image is satisfying, and he's left feeling contemplative.]

How much time do you need to pull everything together in time for the party?