#{it's perfect!}

Daniel's first instinct was to toss a biting retort in Armand's face. Throw his words back at him, watch with satisfaction as that perfect face grimaced. He was Daniel fucking Molloy, he didn't need anyone's pity. Least of all Armand's. After all, he was used to those around him not being there by choice. He was an investigative journalist- the people he typically spent time with would rather he not be anywhere near them.

Daniel opened his mouth to follow that instinct, but stopped himself at the last second. Choice. The vampire had certainly painted the picture that choice was something he hadn't been given much of in the past. From one order to the next, obligation and duty, one after another. To think that Armand would use the precious gift of choice to be here, with him...it was absurd.

Yet here he was- barely a breath away, so close that if Daniel decided to, he could reach out and touch that beautiful visage.

"Just add it to the list of aches I feel every day," Daniel quipped, eager to mask his feelings behind comforting wit.

"Dunno why you'd choose to hang around an old man. World's your oyster and all that."

Looking at Armand there in the armchair was like staring at a painting. Perfectly smooth skin. Dark, brooding features. Artwork brought to life. He remembered thinking something similar, all those years ago. Even in the midst of the fear and the desperation, Daniel could recall a sliver of something else. A shard of awe as he stared into those amber eyes.

"What else am I supposed to do? Ask you to stay? To what end- mutually assured destruction?"

Just flour alone would unlock some crazy new food combo I've never tried before.

Poor Jaskier... So, are they planning on letting me go or keeping me? Do they want me to stop fucking or keep fucking? Is getting eaten something I should dread or look forward to?

@edwardspoonhands Do you like my bean's name?