At least he has familiar faces from home. So far Cricket has seen only himself and, well, Aisling. The tiny spirit, however, wasn't that great of a companion when it came to human companionship. It couldn't talk, go drinking, argue, complain - all the necessary things that a man needed to stay sane. Being a public performer he'd learned to be out going and talk to people out of a mater of defense. People would talk to him anyway - if only for autographs.

"Sadly, life rarely does what you plan for it to do." If it did, would they be here? Unlikely. It's certainly not what he planned on doing. He planned on heading back to Cardiff and checking in on his nephew. "I am a bard, yes." A normal traveling musician but also a bard - he had some magic at his disposal as the spirit testified. But perhaps to Dorian it just meant a traveling musician.

He did at least look a tiny bit sheepish when his hand got moved and muttered an apology. Sometimes he got too involved in talking that he forgot what he was doing. Still, he started digging more holes.

"That sort of family." He raised his eyebrows, amused. "If you're waiting for the fifth date they must be quite the story. How much alcohol is involved telling their tale?" He's not opposed to going out on a date though it's been a while for him.