Since the letter had found its way to him Dorian has pondered about the man, or woman, behind  its creation. This "Null" as they called themselves was quiet the intrigue, all mysterious and all that nonsense. Well, Dorian wasn't one to give up free luxury after how long he spent in the underbelly of China, such a quaint little setting. All the gangs gunning for top dog made for exciting writing but poor comforts, at least material ones, those women sure knew how to use their hands.<br/><br/>But with material enough to fill a book and an angry Triad boss, Dorian knew it was time to move on. With goodbyes to his favorite bar, prostitute, and several other bars Dorian made for the airport and was taken to the jet that would take him to Hawaii. At first things were tense, finger on the magical trigger for awhile before relaxing and taking part of the wine that was given to him.<br/><br/>Looking at the bottle it was clearly old, the bottle wasn't even glass and instead was made of clay. One word was scrawled upon it,<i>Aminean</i>in faded Latin. So, his mysterious host had taste, magic, and connections. How very interesting. Dorian relaxed into his chair as he left himself to think upon these discoveries as the plane flew to the meeting place of the ferry.