There is a universe where Lestat and Armand fought and Louis could weather it without any of this.

But this is not that. It's pieces of his life made into weaponry. A second clash to remind Louis that Armand is always going to be dangerous.

A second clash to remind Louis that he'd made Armand a promise.

Stubborn, the tightening clench of Louis' jaw. Digging in heels again. Said no, meant it. Closed Daniel out of his head, vanished behind a hard gleaming shell.

But—

"I'm not trying to die."

Comes with a gleam of anger. A chilly flash of feeling, there and gone, slipped between moving plates.

Words picked carefully after, withholding and sparse, sentiment compressed down into bare minimum.

"I know what he did. I haven't forgotten."

(Except maybe he has. They have a day. Before, Daniel had one piece. A handful of days fifty years ago. What about the rest? Seventy-seven years. What else is missing?)

(It's not about that.)

"You two asked what you asked. I'm done talking on it now."

No one's changing their minds. Louis is letting this night slip away.