"Rashid," Armand answers easily. Saying 'Armand' this time could be amusing, maybe with time to settle. This book has his name on too many minds and lips, too many opinions when he's been dead to the living world for centuries. The horror of being perceived even in shallow, stunted ways, etc etc.
He shouldn't be here. Daniel is a damning creature already, tempting him with games, the lure of the chase. Tempting his curiosity, a weakness and strength both. He leans unabashedly to read the message, a slow blink as he processes it.
Juvenile. He isn't sure if this cartoon movie reference is meant to be a pointed insult of some personal sort. Trite, ridiculous from a writer of Daniel's caliber, and the last line his eyes linger on. It should be ineffective, yet when he pulls the book to himself he runs his finger over the last line. Stupid, stupid boy.
So, probably not particularly shocking when he turns and leaves without saying a word. Some real spooked cat behavior, ignoring the few pointed thoughts of rude for how he slips away without even a thank you. Of course then the next book signing follows the day after, all set up for another long stretch of Armand shaped silence as he copes through petulant avoidance and centuries wary skewed perception of time. Instead he's sitting at the table Daniel's meant to be signing at, any employee who walks over suddenly turning around as if remembering something else.
Ramones t-shirt and worn jeans this time, boots and loose curls around his face with no contacts this time. Most might think ah, there's no higher purpose to these choices, but the costume choice of a former theater director is never pointless. So, symbolic, overblown lack of contacts and a reflection of Daniel's old aesthetic. What could this mind game possibly mean.
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He shouldn't be here. Daniel is a damning creature already, tempting him with games, the lure of the chase. Tempting his curiosity, a weakness and strength both. He leans unabashedly to read the message, a slow blink as he processes it.
Juvenile. He isn't sure if this cartoon movie reference is meant to be a pointed insult of some personal sort. Trite, ridiculous from a writer of Daniel's caliber, and the last line his eyes linger on. It should be ineffective, yet when he pulls the book to himself he runs his finger over the last line. Stupid, stupid boy.
So, probably not particularly shocking when he turns and leaves without saying a word. Some real spooked cat behavior, ignoring the few pointed thoughts of rude for how he slips away without even a thank you. Of course then the next book signing follows the day after, all set up for another long stretch of Armand shaped silence as he copes through petulant avoidance and centuries wary skewed perception of time. Instead he's sitting at the table Daniel's meant to be signing at, any employee who walks over suddenly turning around as if remembering something else.
Ramones t-shirt and worn jeans this time, boots and loose curls around his face with no contacts this time. Most might think ah, there's no higher purpose to these choices, but the costume choice of a former theater director is never pointless. So, symbolic, overblown lack of contacts and a reflection of Daniel's old aesthetic. What could this mind game possibly mean.