[Dorian stops abruptly, blanching at the ferocity in his tone—for all the times he thought he wanted Byerly to be angry, that's the last thing he imagined hearing. If he'd heard that long before now, perhaps there was some chance of being afraid of him. Was he holding back, or is he just too tired now?

And oh, he wants to know who angered him to that point, what they did. He wants to be angry for him. But after taking one look at Byerly's face, he remembers that it isn't his business to know unless the man tells him himself.]

Lay in the sunshine, drink something fruity, watch the waves roll onto the shore. [He tries, and reaching to take one of his hands.] I'll tell you you need to work on your tan, and you'll tell me you already look your best.