It does please Armand. He leans in a little, into the hand on knee, not so much doe eyed as uneasily intense in how he regards Daniel from under his lashes. He's torn between an odd pair of instincts, one to demand Daniel show him his hunting prowess and the other to bring the food directly to him, cut it's neck and hold it's hair as Daniel latched on.

Novel. He cared for many as coven master but the pull was a dense, drowning obligation like a shackle more times than it was not. This feeling with Daniel is oddly buoyant, and far more terrifying aside. "Fledgling appetite," Armand says with a hint of approval. "Come with me, then."

The store is winding down, the book signing already far later than it would typically allow for. Disgruntled workers eying customers clearly intent on lounging around as long as they can, said customers milling around shelves. Some fans of Daniel's lingering, though they seem intent on looking away with blank looks when Armand's eyes skim over the crowd.

He stands fluidly, hand to Daniel's shoulder as he scans the room and locks eyes on the robust man from before. "Him," he offers, eyes shifting to Daniel, waiting to see if he'll bite. Pun maybe intended.