Oh Armand, immortal asshole. Daniel pulls in a breath, but he doesn't let himself audibly sigh. Not helpful. His hand hovers for a moment, robe corner delivered, but after some consideration, he carefully pets over Lestat's hair. Damp from being washed, the prettiest sad wet dumpster rat. Maybe it's a little insulting to treat Lestat like a teenager having a crying jag, but it's his only experience pool to draw from. (A shitty father, but a worse partner; put up with occasionally crying from the kids, but not their mothers. He'd just leave the room, or worse, get thrown out for rolling his eyes.)

"Louis believed something that wasn't true, about the trial in Paris," Daniel says. "He believed that, and he was stuck with Armand, and he finally got to wordvomit everything up to some junkie mortal kid. The only way he felt safe to think of you was through that lens. How do you think he feels now, knowing you heard all that, knowing he believed a bunch of bullshit for all these years?"

Pretty bad. More reasons why sinking his desire to go kill Armand sucks. An unfortunate necessity.

Daniel huffs a laugh, then.

"He left me with Armand and didn't come back. He went and saw you in New Orleans, right? That was after bailing on me. I hadn't seen him since then. He's working shit out, man. He's picking fights with the voices in the dark. It's not about who he wants to hold hands with, it's about being able to trust himself. You know. In his own head."

Probably? Yeah. Seems right. Hopefully Daniel's not making it worse, speaking on Louis' behalf, but on the other hand, this is what Louis gets for shutting down, sooOoOo.