Carrick took another sip of wine, his eyes shrewd as he assessed Hermes' invitation.
"I'll come round with some books. And with Elsa. She's been lying outside your door, pining."
A pale fingertip traced idly around the rim of the wineglass, and the vampire was silent for a long moment. The mention of armour struck at him.
Finally, he looked into Hermes' eyes. There was light there again. Not much, but enough. He gave a tiny smile.
"A traditional gift given when a man was wooing an eremenos was a pet cockerel. I suppose, what with city zoning regulations, a carton of black bean chicken will have to do. "