Maybe, if Daniel found his big brown eyes at all convincing, if he found the casual college kid look to be the peak of attraction, he'd like the costume more. But Armand knows that even in that first week in Dubai, Daniel had looked at Fake Rashid, and sure he wanted to fuck him, but more than that, wanted to know what his problem was. (And the desire to fuck him was just a fleeting, nonsense fantasy anyway, like someone imagining what it might be like to fly a space ship. 69 years old and suffering from Parkinson's, sex was distant in the rear view mirror. He hadn't even jacked off to thinking about it, because he'd have never maintained an erection, much less finish. Anyway. Point is: "Electronic Mailbox"???)

He smiles. Happy to be helped, in turn.

"It's for you, technically." A joke coming on, because this isn't actual flirting. A setup. A plural you. "What bit do you think I should read, today?"

If it feels like punishment for showing up, well. Could be. Or Daniel is learning from his maker, and poking at him like a bug in a jar.