The doors to all three adjoining rooms have been left swung open, connecting room to room to room.

Only one contains vampires, at the moment.

Louis' high standards, expectation of luxury, had demanded king size beds whether or not said beds would see any real use. And presently, the bed in the room marked out as Daniel's with its overabundance of pillows and heavy quilt, is functioning as a makeshift theater while a movie of Daniel's choosing plays out on the widescreen television.

Earlier this evening, Daniel had conducted a charming transaction with several local students while Louis looked on, amused. The bounty he'd procured has been fashioned into a number of tightly rolled joints. Louis has lit one between his fingers, slouched comfortably back against an abundance of pillows, one leg bent, bare foot resting beneath his knee.

The room is warm, in spite of chilly winds outside. Louis had tugged the sleeves of his sweatshirt up over his forearms, body loose in this new, updated version of his preferred loungewear.

"Remind me," Louis is saying, as he offers the joint over to Daniel. "Why this movie?"

Not a complaint, only invitation. Why this? What memory does Daniel attach to it, or praise has he assigned to it?