"Making sure you hold your end of our bargain," Armand corrects, basking a little in Daniel's smugness. There's some learned instinct in him to correct the behavior, the hierachy of maker and fledgling echoed throughout hundreds of years of strict rules, then his own maker before. There's an ill fitting mask of maitre in him, one Louis played with and never understood the gravity of, not even after it was far too late.

His mood is eased enough he lets it pass- here is Daniel, coaxing him to stay. Smug he did. Addictive, being wanted or at least the heady illusion of it.

"Do you need to feed before my plans for you?" Speaking of maker instinct: the urge to coax the most rancid of those lingering around the store, like that robust man with his slow, predator heart and an ache in his knuckles from hurting something much weaker than he. Or maybe just the annoying shrill creature nearby who rolls her eyes overhearing that and thinks Daniel is too embarrassingly old for the larping, vampire schtick.