While Daniel is mauling night joggers, Louis occupies a park bench. Turns heads, despite or perhaps because of his inattention to the late night stragglers making an ill-advised detour through the park. The black and white flecked wool of his pea coat catches the lamplight. Soft joggers, bare ankles, pristine sneakers, no one is mistaking Louis as a man intending any kind of athleticism.

He is sitting quietly, listening to the silk of Armand's voice in his head. To Lestat's knife-twist of a dismissal. Asking Rachida for news articles about the fire to pore over in some moment in the days ahead.

Louis should eat. But he cannot put his teeth near Damek's neck in this state, so the novelty mug it will be when they return.

Daniel is unhappy. Louis looks up at him, silent for a long moment.

"Pick one, Daniel."

For him, Louis will try.