He looked up at her for a moment from where he sat on the floor fiddling with the locks. "Ms. Wells, I must apologize, I must have lead them here. Maybe they knew I was hunting them I do not know, but this tells me they are not far." flipping open the trunk inside was not what one might expect of a 'gentlemen' a long thick leather black coat, with smoked goggles inside, a sword cane in two pieces and Flint and thick knee high riding boots. A bunch of daggers were under the coat, underneath it. As he stood pulling out the coat he made a mistake a few very aged newpaper clippings feel free. 'Carver family butchered, husband in charged' a few others pretty much the same different dates but all for the summer of... 1788. Dorian tossed his coat aside and started to pull on the heavy leather coat.

It was from his times helping Matt with Blood hunts to make up for shit Phoebe does.

"A gun will not help here. I said gun cotton, Nitrocellulose. It is rather new but it makes one hell of a blast."