Entitled.

The word beats in his temples. Armand recedes, descending further beneath the icy shield of stone.

So easy for him to detach himself. Louis' resentment is an ugly thing, claws digging in around his heart. The hammering continues apace, a heartbeat, drumming beneath the patter of their conversation.

Seventy-seven years. Daniel's fears, his worry of what it would cost Louis to initiate contact. Maybe even this, words projected at a distance, costs something.

It sparks a very specific kind of pain. Something familiar, shattered apart.

Have you?

Louis had made only two requests, as he'd left. Armand had abided by one.