The skeptic lingers towards the front of the store while his partner and her floral hand cream take to the line, and then Armand behind her. That he's here alone isn't too unusual. Currently, a woman in her forties is telling Daniel that she drove from the other state to be here, asking if he'd sign another for her wife who couldn't come. A lone teenager, next, who is too shy to do more than offer his name for the signing, and nod at some prompted question.

A thoughtful audience, then, mostly. Some fans, some curious people who saw the sign at the door. Difficult not to compare it to the theatre. Armand made a habit of, occasionally, sitting amongst them back then as well, not just presiding from his balcony perch. It was good to regard the thing from the proper view.

His turn. He lays the book down in front of Daniel, pushing it forwards.

"I can't say I'm convinced," he says, ignoring the employee sitting alongside. "Given the innate romance of death by vampire compared to death by bus, or CEO. Compelled, perhaps."

A little forward, maybe, but surely, Daniel has experienced weirder fans.