The agent is going to talk about the sun room appended to the building that passes for a backyard, which might be amusing. It wouldn't have no worth, of course. A vampire can enjoy plants, and viewing them during the evening. And feel the lingering warmth captured after sundown, at least in the summer.

Armand had taken a look at it, as well as the basement, which is generously proportioned. He would, he thinks, have the floor dug down by a few more feet, along with the renovation required to make it a little more comfortable for the vampire who would need to sleep down here. Up the stairs again. A cracked open window. The sounds of the city. The penthouse in Dubai had been so silent, with only the ambiance of the skyscrapers groans.

Thinks he can sense Daniel becoming alert to him. Or he's imagining it. Either way, Armand quietly moves through to this front room, focusing. Maybe Daniel hears it, an echo of rest in the real estate agent's brain—not the word, not Armand's voice, just the influence of the command, brain sinking into a bath of warm milk as his eyes go dim and his mouth stops moving.

And Armand, at the edge of the archway of the foyer that leads off to the living room, big innocent eyes and a familiarly monochromatic wardrobe, tidy shoes peaking from the loose hang of grey slacks, a black button down neatly tucked into the belted waistband. Arms folded loosely.

"You'll need a proper ventilation system in the basement after you remove the windows."

Hi.