That pulls Daniel back immediately from wherever his mind has wandered. Eyes a little narrow as he lifts them, wondering where's the catch, but he's also stupidly hopeful. Idiotic, to live seventy years and still have the capacity for something other than cynicism, in the face of a predator no less. But he wants to know Armand, and trust Armand — more than anything he wants to be able to say yes to this overture of touches and see where the hell that's going, even if he feels particularly breakable under one stern hand.

There are questions he wants to ask that he shouldn't even be able to shape, based off glimpses of file names, but why jump feet first into all the vampire history stuff if it's just gonna be off the record anyway?

"Which city's your favourite?" he asks instead. "Not because of whatever happened there, don't say Paris just because it's where you met Louis, she's gotta stand on her own merits."