"Lucky bastard."

Though the words were spoken in the barest of whispers, Dorian heard it and looked around. Seeing nobody in his cabin, he asked aloud, "Skinner?"

"The one and only," answered the invisible man.

"Skulking about as always, I see."

"You do know you're a lucky bastard, don't you?"

Dorian smirked. "For what reason, exactly?"

"Look in the mirror," said Skinner simply. When Dorian did so, he continued. "You're looking at a face. True, it's a bloody handsome face, but even if it weren't…you'd still be looking at your face. Me, I don't even get an ugly face to look at, now do I?"

"I'm not sure about that," said Dorian conversationally. "That make-up you wear gives us a good indication of your features, and I can assure you, they are quite ugly."

Skinner chuckled. "There's an unlikely compliment."

"It's interesting that you envy me, Skinner."

"And why's that?"

"Had I been invisible, that portrait of me would never have been painted. So, in a way, I should envy you. No one will ever capture your soul in a work of art."

"If this is going to turn into a bloody pity-party," said Skinner after a moment's pause. "There had better be alcohol involved. Where've you hid the scotch?"

Shaking his head with amusement, Dorian brought out a bottle and two glasses, poured, and watched as a gulp of scotch trickled down Skinner's throat.

"Ah," sighed the invisible man contentedly. "Cheers, Gray."

Dorian raised his glass in agreement. After a few rounds, both gentlemen were feeling drunk enough for another bout of conversation.

"I've always wondered, Mr. Skinner, do you mind walking around in the nude, or is it an inconvenience of your condition?"

"It keeps you alert, that's for sure," said Skinner. "I mean, if there's nothing protecting your nether region, you're not gonna let anything so much as threaten you, see? Of course, I've gotten used to it, so don't take my word for it."

"That does make sense I suppose…"

"And a question for you, now."

"Ask away."

"Is Mina as good as she looks?"

Dorian smiled, reminiscing. "She is an absolute beast, I can assure you. She, of course, tries to be a lady, but we all saw what she can do, back in my library. Imagine, if you dare, that attacking you in the dark."

Skinner burst out laughing. "Keep the drinks coming, Dorian. I'll need it to keep the nightmares away now!"

The immortal was forced to start on a second bottle, and soon even that was running low.

"I don't think I've drank this much in a few decades, at least," Dorian commented, absently swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "It may be starting to affect me."

"I think it started to affect you a while ago," snorted Skinner. "Should've known a fancy-boy like you couldn't hold his drink."

"Oh, I can't hold my drink?" laughed Dorian, raising an eyebrow. "I heard you stumbling about a moment ago. Your invisibility doesn't hide everything."

"Probably right," said Skinner, joining in the laughter. "My face is probably as red as yours by now."

Dorian rolled his eyes. "Not faces again. That was what the scotch was for, remember?"

"Obviously I need more, then."

"Obviously," agreed Dorian, handing the bottle to Skinner. After some thought, he added, "You know, nobody can truthfully call either of us ugly."

Skinner raised his glass to that. "True! The two most beautiful people on this ship, we are!"

Dorian laughed, and leaned forward to give Skinner a drunken kiss on the cheek. However, with invisible men, it is rather difficult to determine where their face is, and Dorian found himself kissing, instead, Skinner's lips.

He pulled back quickly, and a tense silence echoed through the room. "I think we've had plenty to drink…" Dorian began, turning away.

"Hang on." An unseen hand gripped the immortal's arm, and he closed his eyes, and suddenly there was no immortality…

…there was no invisibility…

…there were no faces…

…there was only a kiss.