Just a person. A vampire is very much like one, and by some metrics, even more like one than most people. Too much feeling, too much humanity, brimming with it, bleeding it.

At least, in some ways. Not all of them. But in this, it's familiar—a warm kiss, the pleasant and forceful weight of another human-shaped body on top of Daniel's. No cigarettes, these days, no nips of alcohol to wile away the evening, just whatever intrinsic and unique taste is carried through saliva and the lingering impression of iron from this recent exchange.

Tastes in return. Has not indulged in Daniel's innerworkings since being offered his blood, and chases this new intimacy with more eagerness than he would casually admit to. Long moments of just this, this contact, making out on the ground like teenagers who only just discovered that this sort of thing feels nice.

And then it's over. Armand, sitting up, orange eyed, hazy rather than sharp. But, a spell shaken off, in part. Whatever had come over him, after wrapping fingers around some vital and vulnerable thing in Daniel, threatening it.

Enough that he can say, "And this is where you say—"