[So he doesn't know. The stiffening in Dorian's spine relaxes and the sharp look in his eyes dulls. Anyone being able to see through him to the portrait is an infinitely more threatening concept than for his immortality to be obvious to someone. After a moment Dorian sits back again, resting his chin against the back of a hand.]

However it may work for angels, people aren't rolling stones. We gather moss. How does someone with human experiences and memories become something other?

[At even the faintest idea of the suggestion that he might be able to undo the curse his Lucifer put upon him, Dorian smiles in an unpleasant and crooked way.]

And if the source of that limitation is something like you? [He wonders, idly, if Lucifer sees even himself as something surmountable with enough ingenuity and willpower.]