Armand's eyes don't do the thing very often. The bloom of black pupils, a predator's gaze, but not never. Sometimes, when he feels like chasing something, when it doesn't matter at all that his prey might be able to detect the thought, because the prey is already hysterical and running for their lives. Otherwise, it seems like a tell. He has better control than most.

They widen a little here, drinking in the sight. The invisible thrum of pulse beneath offered skin. Come on jerks in him like a hook caught in his belly, will have to consider later whether it's because it has the vaguest hint of an order or simply because of the recklessness of the words themselves. Feels like a tiger being teased.

Imagines, for a split second, leaping, tearing.

Does what feels like the equivalent, and steps into Daniel's space. Catches his hand in his hair, another to keep his chin so positioned and turned a little aside. Delicately applies his fangs on skin, a dainty twinned piercing sensation followed by the more intimate press of a warm mouth to throat.