There was a reason Dorian visited the hospital as frequently as he did: children (and some strange adults) had a habit of having serious displays of emotional magic. He didn't mind it so much when it was children, as they hadn't yet received the education on how to control such magic. However, when he was walking back towards his office with half his body invisible and the assurance that "it will fade with time" he was less inclined to be tolerant of such bursts from adults.

Already, he had received several odd stares for walking through the hallways with most his legs and his fingers on his left hand missing. If not for the sensation of walking, Dory would believe the questions of whether or not he was floating. Some bold healer at the hospital had gone as far as to pinch where his bottom was just to see if it would elict some kind of reaction. (Spoiler: it did.)

He was nearing the Games department when an opening door stubbed his invisible toes. "Bloody hell," he hissed beneath his breath. They might've been invisible, but they still hurt like a bitch. "My apologies," he then quickly added to whomever opened the door. "Wasn't expecting that."