A clean parting, with just the barest static singe to his fingertips— annoyance at being defied surges up he rides the swell of it until it pours him to the other side, where he is surprised Molloy managed it, and perversely proud that he did. A strange pop of pleasure. He taught him something. A clever, capable fledgling. His.

Rude, though. It's no longer a chess match. The hurt is real, the wounds are open. Fucking unacceptable rings in his head, over the mortal's rapidly deteriorating speech, over Louis' impotent threat.

Overtaken quite suddenly.

Armand shoves Lestat away from his mind like a train slamming into a parked car. Of course has to have the most dramatic final moment. Armand hisses at him, at air, at a reflection of nothing, and his anger crackles around him. He doesn't want your teeth, your claws, your blood, your mocking kiss. A boot in his face, shoving him out the window. The very pointed feeling of being rejected. Armand's desire for Lestat is a nightmare of a thing tied up in issues buried too deep for a shark bursting through undead radio frequencies to get to.

'Enfant.'

Roy Travis' head caves in.

Armand closes his mind.

(Daniel stays standing with Louis, protected, protecting, even as consciousness swims strangely and blood leaks out of his ears.)