Tedium is one of the foremost failures of immortality. Once one has lived for a certain amount of time, years turning into decades stretching into centuries, it becomes difficult to find new experiences. Everything has been done, witnessed, tasted, digested, fucked, enjoyed. Even suffering can become rote, simply another trauma, another loss to live through. Many vampires, Armand has learned, do not have the endurance for it. But some things remain, somehow, unique. Humanity, in all of its messiness and confusion, is somehow an endless process of discovery -- how each individual reacts, how they chart their path through life, how their pain and pleasure reflects the pain and pleasure of the immortal, the divine.

For that reason, Armand remains fascinated by it, despite himself. The small glances. The lines at the corners of Daniel's eyes. The stutter of his heart and the blood singing in his veins. The way his mind works around the problems Armand presents to him. He watches, and absorbs, and is amused.

Even the question isn't entirely surprising. Armand sees it coming, forming in Daniel's thoughts. It gives him time to prepare his own response.

"No," he says, softly. Regretfully. "Not here. Not now, no." He lifts a hand from his lap and, finally, inevitably, reaches for Daniel's face. The delicate points of his fingernails slip over his skin, down his jaw to his neck, dancing lightly over the throb of his major arteries. Encouraging him to lift his chin, so Armand can span his hand across his throat.

"I like being a mystery to you, Daniel," he murmurs. He draws up his thumb, caressing a gentle circle across Daniel's carotid. "One last great mystery, for a man who has spent so much time pursuing the truth." He pauses, pondering. "You declined a sample of my blood, once. Would you do so again, if I offered?"