Unlike the blank bulkhead wall of their last one on one conversation, Armand feels fine. Gotten the histrionics out of his system, perhaps. An impression, easy as anything, of him sitting across from Louis, one leg over the opposite knee, hands folded, occasionally twining his fingers together as he's prone to do; a little worried, but calm.

It would be a familiar presence. But can Louis trust even such a mundane thing?

'I still live in this world.'

If Louis expects him to just ignore utterly insane, violent episodes in public just because they aren't on comfortable speaking terms, he's not thinking straight. He's looking in on him, because something happened. He's looking in on him, because he's curious. Because he's just that little bit concerned.

He spent so long looking after Louis. It was dishonest, but he was safe.

'So. Are you?'