"It's blue," he chuckles. "Dark blue, like the ocean in a storm." He's always loved storms, and the wilder they were, the more he loved standing in them, letting the rain pelt his skin and the wind buffet him this way and that. Even now, in modernity, he reespected the power nature had. Humankind thought itself the master of all things, but even they took shelter at the unyielding ferocity of storms. Armand was much like that, and it was captivating in all the senses.

"I like making my friends enjoy themselves," Ganymede says with a little smile as he watches Armand spin and can see the surprise replace the sadness on his face. "Light cannot be light without its balance of darkness, Armand. I can love the dark all the more knowing what used to be in it. And what still is." They both know he's never shied away from the darker things in life, and derives pleasure from many of them. Armand has bitten him before, and it hurt, but god, did it feel breathtakingly good. He playfully swatted at his friend for the suggestion of having him strip in front of the statue he'd posed for, a gentle dusting of color settling atop his cheekbones as he chuckled.

"You should tell me what your favorite color is, too. So I know." He likes knowing things like that about people; favorite colors, drinks, the way they wear their hair, what they named the dog or cat.