An easy memory to summon, the brazen look angled at him across the table. So cutting, compared to the watery transfixing fear he recalled so well. A breath out of Armand, a kind of yes, well, at metaphors of grenades. Apt.

He should say, Yes, or, Sometimes, and not the freakish truth. But, you know. In for a penny.

"Not really." Maybe it's the depression, but that doesn't feel right. Whatever he feels towards Daniel, it isn't that specific kind of numbness. "Are you at me?"

For the turning, sure, but then: everything else. All he discovered. All Armand did.