There is a sharp, unpleasant uneasiness that comes up in Daniel when Lestat talks about these things. Daniel feels— what the fuck does he feel? It's not quite embarrassment, which he can bulldoze through unbruised by. Deeper. Outright humiliation. Armand already showed Louis his turning, a pathetic, crippling thing, and now he's peeling layers off of Louis, twisting the screws into Lestat, and using Daniel to do it.
But it would make sense, wouldn't it. If Armand believed it, and wanted to hurt Louis with it. Just killing Daniel isn't going to work for him anymore, not with the bond between them of maker and fledgling. But he can spend time with Daniel, and kiss him, and curl up and let himself be held as they sleep. If he was contending with something with Louis, that would really fuck them up pretty good, wouldn't it.
What an incredible idiot Daniel is.
"Armand wasn't there until things got bad," Daniel says, and he might applaud himself for sounding so fine, so calm. His tone turns a wry as he adds, "There's plenty he didn't see. Both times."
Self-deprecating. Louis, casting a scathing look over him for pulling his shirt off, Louis, mocking him with an offer while his hands were shaking and he'd had the unbelievable gall to ask if they'd fucked in the 70s, Louis, spending both interviews pouring his soul out, metaphorically bleeding all over, speaking of no one but Lestat, Louis, angrily putting out a cigarette and walking to—
"Woah, hey."
In between Louis and the exit in a blink. Hands up! But he doesn't touch him, doesn't particularly want to get decked or thrown into a wall.
no subject
But it would make sense, wouldn't it. If Armand believed it, and wanted to hurt Louis with it. Just killing Daniel isn't going to work for him anymore, not with the bond between them of maker and fledgling. But he can spend time with Daniel, and kiss him, and curl up and let himself be held as they sleep. If he was contending with something with Louis, that would really fuck them up pretty good, wouldn't it.
What an incredible idiot Daniel is.
"Armand wasn't there until things got bad," Daniel says, and he might applaud himself for sounding so fine, so calm. His tone turns a wry as he adds, "There's plenty he didn't see. Both times."
Self-deprecating. Louis, casting a scathing look over him for pulling his shirt off, Louis, mocking him with an offer while his hands were shaking and he'd had the unbelievable gall to ask if they'd fucked in the 70s, Louis, spending both interviews pouring his soul out, metaphorically bleeding all over, speaking of no one but Lestat, Louis, angrily putting out a cigarette and walking to—
"Woah, hey."
In between Louis and the exit in a blink. Hands up! But he doesn't touch him, doesn't particularly want to get decked or thrown into a wall.
"Please don't. Louis."