A quiet response; the second voice might even have a hint of familiarity for Dorian, though its words are still muffled.
The first one goes again. Depending on how close he is, Dorian might even get a glimpse of this first speaker around the corner: an older man with flyaway hair, and clothes that roughly match Dorian's own era. Whoever he's talking to must be blocked from view by his frame.
"And the behaviour of the painter fascinates me -- surely he should have realised, in those last astonishing moments, that he had to run or fight? That he was dealing with something which wouldn't respond favourably to begging?" A rustle, a whisper. "Oh. Well. It just goes to show that love and madness aren't so far apart as psychiatry would have us believe."
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The first one goes again. Depending on how close he is, Dorian might even get a glimpse of this first speaker around the corner: an older man with flyaway hair, and clothes that roughly match Dorian's own era. Whoever he's talking to must be blocked from view by his frame.
"And the behaviour of the painter fascinates me -- surely he should have realised, in those last astonishing moments, that he had to run or fight? That he was dealing with something which wouldn't respond favourably to begging?" A rustle, a whisper. "Oh. Well. It just goes to show that love and madness aren't so far apart as psychiatry would have us believe."