A simple answer, the kind of simplicity that's also beautiful, and that strikes a precise note of pure jealousy in Armand's heart, like the ringing of a glass before it shatters into pieces. His expression falters a little, brow furrowing, the boy showing through the mask of the immortal.

Nobody has ever waited for him.

He swallows and glances away for a moment, as if merely interested in the party going on beyond them.

"I hope that your loyalty is rewarded," he says, summoning the mask once more, looking back at John.