Nick took a step back admiring his work. He had been restoring a painting of a very handsome man, circa late 1800s England, and he was almost finished. He had stitched the canvas back together and the only thing left was a few minor touch ups. The artist was a little-known fellow by the name of Basil Hallward who went missing some years after this painting. It was a gorgeous painting, and the subject was so striking, he had an innocence and a charm about him.

Nick righted the painting, wiped his brow, and looked over his work. "Well buddy, it looks like you are all done."

No sooner had he finished saying this, a blinding light burst from the painting. As it the light faded, rubbing his eyes Nick regained focus to an immediate shock.

Nick stumbled backwards knocking a jar of paint brushes off the table. The jar shattered and the brushes scattered around the room, this didn't even register to Nick. His mouth was agape as he stared right at the most beautiful man that he had ever seen, the man from the painting.

He stared back at Nick with a calmness that did not suit the sudden appearance in the restoration room of the museum.

"Hello, good man, can you tell me, where exactly I am," the man said his eyes darting around the room speaking in a not-so-subtle English accent.

"You, you were there, now, here," Nick said making even less sense verbally compared to what was rattling around in his head.

"Calm down sir, if you can just tell me where I am, I am sure I can find my way home, I must have been a bit overzealous last night and lost my way."

Nick took a deep breath this time before he spoke, "You are in New York, but you didn't get lost, you appeared," Nick shook his head trying to get his bearings again. He pointed to the painting, "you were in the painting, I restored it, you appeared."

The man turned around and looked back into his own face. He took a step back, admiring the likeness. Nick watched as the man gazed at the painting.

"My friend Basil painted this for me," he said, then turning back towards Nick stretching his arm out towards him, "forgive me I have been quite rude, I am Dorian Gray."

Nick unsettled took Dorian's hand, "I am Nick."

Narrowing his eyes at Nick and not letting go of his hand, "Do you mind telling me how you came to have my painting?"

A cold spread over Nick, he down trying to avoid the searing beauty of Dorian, "I am commissioned to restore it, there was a nasty gash, it looked like someone had cut it with a knife."

At the mention of knife Dorian released Nick's hand, looking up he saw a flicker in Dorian's eyes, though he wasn't sure of what.

Dorian turned back to the painting, after a moment he said, "I am so sorry Basil, I will do my best to keep this one looking better than the last."

Nick looked around the room edging towards the door.

"What year is it?" Dorian stated not taking his eyes off the painting, his hand's clasped behind his back.

"It is 2015," Nick said.

"I have been gone a long time, there must be so much to experience after a hundred years, a wrinkle or two couldn't hurt, right Basil?" Dorian said to the painting.

Nick wasn't quite sure what was going on, but this guy definitely seemed to have a screw loose, not to mention he still couldn't rationalize how Dorian was here at all. All things considered he might also have a screw loose. He realized he was at the door, and as he was about to turn the handle, Dorian swivelled on his heels and started walking towards him.

"Get your coat, Nick you are going to show me all that New York has to offer," he said putting his hand on Nicks and turning the door handle.

Nick held his breath at the soft hand on him. Dorian turned to look him in the eye. Nick at that moment realized the intimate proximity he shared with Dorian.

Then with that charming smile, and hand still on top of his, Dorian said, "Well, shall we see what trouble New York has waiting for us?"