A siren luring sailors to the rocks. He can see Armand that way: ethereal, closer to divinity than humanity, talons like a predatory bird, delicate, decorative feathers. Something beautiful and something wrong. A haunting, alluring voice that wants you to die. Get out of the apartment. Sail into the rocks. It's better. It's what you want.

A mother thinking of smothering her infant. A guy shaking with post-rage adrenaline, terrified of what he just did to his girlfriend. Somebody who's voting conservative and leaving anonymous hate speech on social media. And, yes, a man with a bad job and a recent ex.

"Your guy? Yeah."

The temptation is there to interfere. He wonders if Armand can tell— even if just because it would be typical of Daniel to shove his fingers in where they shouldn't go, ask a mean, biting question. But here maybe there'd be a nudge. Yeah, but tomorrow will be fine. Hasn't he been this guy? Wouldn't he still be this guy, if not for Louis?

He doesn't push. He watches. Armand can do this to mortals, and to other vampires. Daniel wants to see it.