Will they lose this, eventually? The cosy affection, the humour in this little jostling gesture? It seems not only possible but inevitable. It would be easy to begin despairing, to pivot to concern that Armand will have to take great care to preserve what he is enjoying, what is new and familiar, that to change might be to erode, to fret for his skills in preservation, given his history—

Maybe later. Another time to consider the horrors of centuries of unlife ahead of them.

"The dynamic," he echoes. Not an affirmation that it's what he likes, just a thought, circled. "One without punishment." Fine. His hands ease up to find a place amongst the pillows on either side of Daniel's shoulders, a different orientation of his hips. Answers that jostle with a less playful, or differently playful, rub of contact.

Watching him. The odd mercurial mix of eye colour, where it's currently settled. "You don't wish to be in charge of us," he adds, a question in a statement. More than just refusing to be a source of pain.