[Dorian stops him from leaving with a hand on his arm, face betraying the confusion that still dictates his behaviour. He still looks vulnerable.] I haven't felt taken-out-on. But, are you—

[Dorian presses his lips together. He finds what he needs to say.] Where do we stand? You know it isn't my habit to ask—I would much rather let things be as they are and change as they will, and never question a thing—but I must know. I don't know any longer what place I have beside you.