"I can," Armand replies, with an interested tilt of his head as he turns to follow along with John. His hands slide into the pockets of his trousers. "I'm not an animal who gets so lost in the blood that he cannot hold back when he needs to."

His gaze roves idly over John's profile, taking note of his individual features. Listening to the steady beat of his heart. What, he wonders, would make it race.