Vampling earns an infinitesimal twitch in the corner of Armand's mouth, not quite a frown. He's used to hearing that kind of disrespect from mortals by now, courtesy of Mr Stoker and his ilk turning their stories into gothic romances and bawdy tales with far more success than his poor theatre troupe could ever have achieved, but it still grates on him.

"Five hundred years old," he offers freely, "by my last count, more or less. I have seen many mortals die in that time. Thousands. I've watched empires rise and fall. Surely you're not surprised that such a life could result in a certain.. distance."