[ A temptation to sketch that firm jawline with the points of his fingernails, to draw him up and sink into the steady pulse. What would his blood taste like, full of death magic? Sweeter, or fouled by the touch of ghosts? Armand decides to find out. But not today.
He lowers his hand and allows himself a bashful smile of his own, a flutter of his eyelashes as he folds his fingers together, like a child caught reaching into the cookie jar. ]
Ah, well. Yes. [ He looks down at Emmrich. Tilts his head a little. ] Armand. My name is Armand.
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He lowers his hand and allows himself a bashful smile of his own, a flutter of his eyelashes as he folds his fingers together, like a child caught reaching into the cookie jar. ]
Ah, well. Yes. [ He looks down at Emmrich. Tilts his head a little. ] Armand. My name is Armand.