Absently, Armand flicks through the book in his lap, not reading, just feeling the texture of glossy pages, the photograph inserts, all the while listening. This is not a copy he has read, picked up instead from the special display they'd stacked by the door, but he has, of course, read it.

He certainly has questions.

Hasn't landed on exactly which one when he does raise his hand as the floor reopens, and several other people do. It is nothing at all to steer the attention of the young woman hosting the event to call upon him, already lowering his palm when she points him out.

"I was curious about the experience itself," he says, tone mild, not even too privately amused. "Interviewing vampires. Were you ever afraid for your life, Mr. Molloy?"

There is the predictable murmured chuckle in the room when someone tosses in a question that takes the premise seriously, but all focus honed forwards for the answer regardless.