Daniel sits with this information. Turns it over. Imagines Armand, wandering around, watching the boats and the moon on the water, suddenly attacked. Does Daniel feel guilt? His fault, for being turned, for not throwing himself into the sun before Louis ever knew of his transformation, for accepting Armand's attentions over the past weeks? Or is he the idiot. Is the the bigger fool who fell for a much more experienced whore, pretending to nervously kiss him in his apartment, pretending to want so desperately to be believed. Was Armand here just to lure out Lestat, just to watch Louis, with Daniel as the fucking court jester, pretending to be a investigator.

He imagines Lestat, too. Decades of misery, nearly a century, missing Louis, missing Claudia. Seeing Armand in the flesh for the first time since the trial, now fully aware of everything that he put Louis through in the interim years apart. Why would he care what Armand was thinking, or what his exact reasoning for being here would be? It's never going to matter.

And he watches Louis. Takes in the restless, unhappy posture. Knows he's upset about it, knows he blames himself for everything that's ever happened to Daniel, and maybe to Lestat, now, too, knows Louis would find a way to blame himself for ants being stepped on, probably. Wonders how boxed in he feels. Three people in a room again, three people talking, trying to sort out something that happened before.

He realizes he's leaned forward and scrubbed a hand over his face. Nervous. Off-kilter. Paddling in the wading pool of disappointment and frustration and worry.

"You hurt each other pretty badly."

Playing his hand a little by accident. Armand is badly hurt, too. He can tell.

"What happened to your mind? I don't... Sorry, I don't know how else to ask."