Dorian didn't really take much stock into the way that Kade was watching him. He pretended not to notice, or care. He didn't want to. So why should he? He was hopeful that the other would just keep their relationship professional and not try to flirt with him or attempt anything unwanted. When Kade's hand lingered on his own he was left staring at it until he was finally let go. Why hadn't he tried to pull away sooner? He was glad to be out of that place as quickly as he did. Dorian drove around for a bit before he finally made his way home. One drink had done nothing, so that wasn't the reason why he'd lingered.<br/><br/>It had unknowingly given Kade time to examine his home, from the fact that everything was absolutely spotless to his extremely dull color and art choices. Blacks, greys, whites. There wasn't hardly any color except for the kitchen and his bedroom. His bedroom had soft blues and greens from the fake flowers on one of the nightstands. The bedding was colored, as well, and there was a piece of art that was no more than a splash of neutral colors that seemed to compliment the rest of the place. Even his bathroom was done in gray scale. There was only a couch and a recliner tucked neatly against his electric fireplace, though his heating and cooling were both central air.<br/><br/>Dorian parked in the garage and got out, locking his car before he made is way to the stairs. He hated elevators, though he would never admit to his mild claustrophobia. He wasn't even out of breath before he made it to the third floor. He scanned his card before entering the dark home. He shook off his rain cook and hung it up, unfastening his tie before he took off his shoes. They were placed on the rack, though guests, one the horrendously rare occasion that he had any, could wipe their feet off on the mat and not trail foot prints into the house.<br/><br/>He went to the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water. There was a balcony with a sliding glass window, and full ceiling-to floor windows that looked out over the rainy city. When he turned and saw the figure there, he gasped, startled. The glass slid out of his hand and fell to the floor with a loud shatter. He kept his gun in the kitchen, and immediately went for it. Of course he carried a gun, since he dealt with criminals and murderers and absolute psychopaths. If he wasn't in danger from the victims' families, or the victims themselves, he certainly didn't feel entirely safe from the creeps themselves. That was why he was in such a secure facility, with cameras (that had unknowingly been shut off by the staff themselves). Everything had secure locks and even bullet proof glass that he'd paid for himself.<br/><br/>If he managed to get the gun, he'd level it at the stranger. "You need to get out of my home, now," he said, reaching into his back pocket for his phone.