Dorian's mustache twitches, much because that corner of his mouth can't help half a smirk. His new friend makes it sound so very simple: man-made intelligence for dummies, or something along those lines. Nonetheless he listens, just as intrigued by the concept, as trying to picture the other man in a world where he fits in. Somewhere people talk of strange matters of ingenuity, and no one bats so much as one set of eyelashes.

"I think it's more than likely the case: the Face of an operation is hardly ever the mastermind behind it.

"But, more importantly," he adds, quickly, so as not to bog them down with parentheses on potential power structures.

And besides, he does quite appreciate subtle invitations. Most of his social calendar used to consist of subtle invitations to secluded locations. Especially haughty, indifferent-sounding ones.

"What manner of house guests would we be if we didn't have a good snoop? Don't answer that. Lead the way!"