Dorian was used to plenty of oddness, being well over a century old, but being whisked away into an entirely new reality wasn't something he'd been expecting that day. He wasn't particularly fazed by it, however. He wasn't going to balk about it - he made sure that his safety deposit box was still around in some form or another first (it was), and he gave a once over of his new surroundings and life before deciding to go out and see exactly how new Old London was.
He was smoking a nonfiltered cigarette on the stoop of a small, cozy, and quaint flat that was just as timeless as he was. He turned to face his double, and gave a sly, altogether unruffled smile. "Damon Salvatore? It's my pleasure to meet you in person. Though it brings to mind the stories of fetches - seeing your double before your face your eternal fate." A tale with which he was quite intimately related.
"Come this way, then. If you're as like me as you look, you'll like this," Dorian spoke with a tone of high-classed grandeur. "You wouldn't believe some of the old pleasures that are still tucked away into this city's curves and corners."