Dorian prefers to express affection by telling people they are terribly dull and he hates them, and he has so little experience with genuine happiness he's twice as prone to trust an artificial version.

"How remarkably sentient," he muses, indulging in some more chin stroking; possibly this is to highlight his glorious facial hair, since between the suit and being bereft of all cosmetics and such, it's the only aspect of his usual highly coiffed appearance still intact.

But never mind his eyeliner related woes. "I'll keep my hands to myself," he promises, "if only to conserve what power I have for something that wants to cut our heads off."