[ The frog rolls the egg around in his palm while he watches Spike, black eyes reflecting the lights from the house, the glow from the end of the vampire's cigarette. Armand notes the lack of a heartbeat in his new friend, the stillness in his body where blood should be flowing. Dead, but undead. It makes it difficult to slip into the newcomer's mind -- difficult, but not impossible. He remains at the edges, observing vague shapes of memories. Decades passing like days. Hunger. Blood. Not unfamiliar.
Young. Angry. And leashed, somewhere inside.
Armand affects a thoughtful expression, soft lips pursed over needle-sharp teeth, fangs in profusion. He digs the sharp point of his thumbnail into the split in the plastic egg. ]
I don't need kisses. Not from dogs. [ He levers the egg open a little with his thumbnail, then holds it out again, within reach. ] Nor do I need eggs.
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Young. Angry. And leashed, somewhere inside.
Armand affects a thoughtful expression, soft lips pursed over needle-sharp teeth, fangs in profusion. He digs the sharp point of his thumbnail into the split in the plastic egg. ]
I don't need kisses. Not from dogs. [ He levers the egg open a little with his thumbnail, then holds it out again, within reach. ] Nor do I need eggs.