Speaking of distance. Daniel is surprised Armand is still around. Seemed like an artful note to escape on. He wonders if there's some greater purpose waiting for him, or if Armand is just doing what Daniel was doing in that diner— drawing it out and wondering why.

He doesn't manage a response. Trick too tricky, without understanding what's being done, and he isn't actually sure Armand heard him. That could be a response, or just extra goading.

Will he wait, while Daniel finishes up here? Will he be there, when Daniel exits the bookshop and goes to look for him? One thinks he's a fraud, one thinks he's a clown. People are allowed to think that. He's devoured people who've done nothing to him, not even a slight, though he tries to take deliberate aim. The hunger is difficult when it peaks, and Daniel is as prone to forgetting to eat while lost in work as he is prone to over-indulging when he has time. Once (a shard of ice) he listened to a food addict discuss his struggle, saying bitterly that at least with drugs or gambling, you don't have to do some drugs and some gambling every single day. You have to eat. Daniel found it lacking.

Now. Hah.

It's exciting, despite everything, to look for Armand. He can't track his mind, and the bond isn't a tether like that. But he can— sense? Smell? Something. It's something, a feeling that's faint like a whisper that nearly touches him. A person that isn't a void, a person he can't connect with but is connected with.

A little wind-swept from the cold and from hurrying, Daniel appears. Eyes wide and curious. Hey.

"Could you hear me?"