Only a guess. How much does Louis truly know, other than he has the sense that Lestat is fragile, that he has been hurt? The concern that is Daniel provided real pressure, Lestat would crack apart?
And the certainty that Louis should not be in the room. Lestat deserves to speak without the pressure Louis would exert even by sitting silently alongside him.
(He will not be Armand. Not even in pale shadow.)
You've decided on your subject then? For a second book?
'There's a demand, and there's a limit on the things I can get after, now,', he says, which is not really an answer. But he sounds thoughtful. 'It'll be a long time, maybe longer than I'll make it, until I can go harass a sitting senator at high noon at McDonald's again.'
Three hundred years? Four hundred? Never, because the blood of the true ancients has diluted on its way to Daniel? In any event, there are many things off the table. Daniel has utilized the internet and remote work before, always keeping up with new resources the moment they've been made available, but he's hands-on.
Other sunless freaks are just going to be easier to track down, now.
'But, no, I haven't decided. I think the things I was working on before this are toast now, but I might still go back to them. In between whatever this ends up being, anyway.'
How much can Louis truly blame him? Louis instilled this in him, what had felt like a desperate lifeline. Something good for Daniel to carry away with him, something that would keep him from sliding into the dark.
I won't intrude, Louis tells him. If you chose to focus on him as your subject.
Spare Daniel the necessity to ask. Head off whatever Lestat might request.
Staring down the barrel of terminal disease, having to think about right-do-die laws and whether or not he was going to ultimately want to go to Switzerland or some other fucking place (and he didn't, doesn't, he hated that, he has never wanted to die, not in his lowest moments, not with Armand calling to him in a riptide of comforting darkness), Daniel had stopped doing things already. The slowdown was brutal, and the master class he was teaching—
Fuck, but he hated it. Still hates it, as he's sorting out whether to do refunds or hold them at night then box the project up, never to be seen again.
This is what he wants to do. And maybe some of it is a compulsion knitted into his brain by Louis, the voice of God, or an angel, hell, maybe a lot of it is. But it's also euphoric, because he can actually do it now, after he had bitterly resigned himself to a slow, miserable decay.
'Thanks,' is wry. Fond, despite it. 'But for the record, you're allowed. You have intruding rights with me, no matter what I'm doing, forever. Even for stupid reasons. Doesn't matter, you've got a pass, and I welcome it.'
This more than anything else is Daniel's gift. To do or say something Louis would not have anticipated, an effortless end run around any and all defenses.
It is unexpectedly touching to be so explicitly welcomed. To be explicitly welcomed by Daniel. How much damage has Louis done to his life? A wrecking ball of a figure, in spite of his best intentions, and still, he is welcomed.
I've missed you, Daniel.
Disarmed enough to say this. He had missed Daniel after San Francisco in a passing, absent way. An ache in the body that lacked true definition, so stripped of context.
He has missed Daniel now, in the wake of their interview. The cavernous penthouse absent of him (absent of Armand) and though Daniel's stay had been a blink compared to the rest of Louis' long, long life, it had left an impression.
The real Dark Gift is the friends they made along the way.
Well. Friend, singular, now they each actually have one in the other.
'Yeah, well.' Louis will be able to feel how pleased that makes him, and how embarrassed he is at his own reaction. Flustered, but he's out of practice with emotional significance. 'I was lonely, too. And despite everything.'
A pause. Daniel isn't reluctant to share, as much as he just wants to be clear— and tenderness is something else he's very out of practice with.
'Despite everything, I liked it.'
He liked their date in San Francisco. He liked the times in Dubai when it was them, talking. Because of Louis, who he probably missed even when he couldn't remember him properly, who he definitely misses now.
Even an ocean away, Daniel has some sense of Daniel's reaction. What his face looks like flustered.
Louis is pleased to have flustered him. Pleased too with what follows after, Daniel moving past Yeah, well into something fonder.
Their patchwork history, so recently pieced back into a whole. Louis bearing the agony, heaving himself out of the coffin Armand had lowered him into, skin flaking, body screaming in pain as he had lurched into the doorway and beyond.
So did I.
Maybe like isn't the right word. But it's right for parts. For the ease of their conversation. For their rapport, a little worse for wear but intact.
I would like it if we were to do it again, with some regularity.
Lestat had asked him, with the air of flipping a knife casually in his hand like a gangster in an edgy production of West Side Story¹, if he loved Louis. Daniel had answered honestly, and after, he considered telling Louis that this exchange occurred; he's already decided not to.
He isn't embarrassed or motivated to hide it, but there's plenty going on right now. Maybe someday. Maybe after the 100 years of space Armand said he'd give him. Which is another thing going on, another thing as yet unspoken, because Armand is not sticking to 100 years. For reasons of respect and emotion, Daniel lets the first thing go unspoken; for reasons of caution, he delays the second thing. He wants to talk it over in person.
But until then—
Feelings bubble up. Not adept at hiding them, like he's not adept at preventing himself from speaking more than half of this exchange aloud.
'I think that's a good idea.'
How do vampires handle that? Pencil in weekly brain dates? —Well, they're rich (!) (exciting), they could also probably jet-set wherever. But no matter what, keeping up regular contact with Louis will make Daniel very happy. Their book is no longer an in-progress hurdle between them burning a hole in their mutual awareness, and they can ... just be.
Daniel's feelings. They are a background hum to his answer, insubstantial but unmistakable. Louis lets them be, for the moment.
Marvels at how some things never change. Daniel, still deeply interesting. Still magnetic.
Still easy to talk to.
I have been keeping names for you, as if presenting a gift. Particularly vocal detractors, and the voices I hear speaking most often in support of them.
Ah, swerving into detective hour? Louis already knows how to divert his attention. But he keeps a light mental hold on the affection, because it's... well, it's just nice. And knowing that Louis is aiding an investigation is pleasing, too. An astute gift.
'Think any of them have social media accounts?' Probably not. Louis will be able to hear Daniel's smile. 'That's great, though. I catch stuff, but it's— a lot, to get used to. Overwhelming. I'm sure that sounds like kid stuff.'
Headaches, sometimes. No awareness he is moving faster than he should with becoming adept at it, thanks to being turned by a vampire considered too old to safely make fledglings.
'What's your instinct, about how far this goes? Do you think the wider vampire community will ease up after a few failed attempts, or double down?'
'There's always extreme tension and hierarchy in high control groups,' he muses, 'and that's what these isolated communities operate like. We airdropped cheeseburgers and cocaine into North Korea, it's probably as enticing as it is terrifying. And either way, maddening.'
Won't vampires just love this hot take. Hello, ancient predators, it doesn't matter how hedonistic you are or how much wealth you have, you are still weird little cult freaks.
(He has not phrased it this way to Armand.)
(Yet.)
'Do you still believe in the Conversion?' Pause, then: 'Did you ever?'
It fell so quickly to the wayside. Daniel never bought it, and Louis forgot to bring it up again. A dramatic-sounding but ultimately flimsy pretense.
Generous, that second question. Giving some space to the set of circumstances set out by the first. Daniel, permitting Louis the opportunity to do better. Be better.
No, he offers. Perhaps we would have been pressed to take a stance one way or the other, but Armand was granted a certain amount of deference. As his companion, I enjoyed it as well.
Spared from aligning himself one way or the other. The book would have been inflammatory even had it gone as Armand had hoped. If Daniel had left with a manuscript.
Perhaps Armand had tired of him. Perhaps he would have let Louis die in the rage of retribution.
You have given us an opportunity to decrease their numbers. As powerful as we are, we should not rule here.
'Ruling tends not to work out long-term,' he says, with an air of a shrug in his voice. 'Even for dictators who aren't susceptible to things like UV flashlights.'
Did Daniel try one because he's got one of those 'real sunlight' alarm clocks? Obviously. Really itchy.
Nothing like a common enemy that can actually be fought to shake off the political mire of hand washing and masks. Humans will make a death laser in an instant and leave it on all night then drop an actual nuke on any remaining vampires, so, yeah. A bad plan, even if one were inclined towards the whole apex superiority thing.
Louis' story had trailed off at the end. A deliberate choice, a concession to Armand. Their life together withheld, shrouded beyond the sketch of a timeline Louis offered to Daniel.
But Louis has lived long enough, gleaned enough knowledge, to know that the vampires roaming the world have more than enough potential to make it weird. In covens or otherwise, long-lived, near untouchable creatures develop their own strangeness to one degree or another.
Its unlikely they know about you, is one theory. Unless Armand has chosen to announce that you've joined our number.
Some cover for Daniel. An advantage. Vampires shocked to discover the human they came to drain is no longer the easy target they assumed.
Louis will feel Daniel do a funny little thing. Confidence, followed by a ping of second-guessing, as though going back to question his own confidence. But he doubles down. Armand has not. It'd be worse if he had, he thinks, and not just by making him a more interesting target. Worse because it would mean Armand was spiraling.
He doesn't want to feel too close into the subject of his maker, though. Not yet. Not while things can get caught in the crossfire of psychic... whateverness. Daniel may be a fast learner, but he's not adept enough to feel completely secure with it.
'Oh, I know you're not afraid, Louis. You're nowhere near the type.' Fond. Something they have in common, for better or worse— too fucking bullheaded to flinch back from anything, no matter how stupid or dangerous it is. 'I meant in general. But if you want to go to a reading, then, I'll take that as an answer.'
Which is
cute of him.
Infuriatingly. Daniel smiles to himself, pleased at success and a little embarrassed by it, because it's such strange success. He's never had to fight for legitimacy before, on a book tour, but he kind of likes arguing ('kind of') so it's been fun.
'I'd like that, too. We'll hope for a quiet evening, and call it a success if nobody calls the cops, huh?'
Would Daniel be affronted if Louis let himself out quietly of a reading? He wants very much to listen to Daniel, to observe in person the spectacle of him promoting his work.
But it is difficult, as the subject of the work, to completely detach himself from the scrutiny directed at it. Louis is certain he'd enjoy watching Daniel spar with those who question the veracity of the account, but those who question the minutia of the story—
Louis isn't certain he cares to hear that.
But perhaps no one asks after the details. Why pick over it now?
Is that a frequent worry? Cops intruding on your readings?
Daniel will tease him more about not reading it, because he does want Louis' opinion, but he gets it. He gets it so much that maybe he'll read something else, the night Louis sits in. Torture the weirdos there for vampire nonsense by declaring them his captives and then going on a thirty minute rant about protecting the environment.
They'll see how it goes.
'Vampires, secret agents, murder plots. Shit's weird, and New York is even weirder,' he says, laughter in his mental voice. 'Everything and nothing are possible.'
The impulse to spin this conversation out further. Keep Daniel on the line, prompt his laughter. The memory of San Francisco is clear in his mind. The good, before all the bad. He'd liked making Daniel laugh then too.
'My immediate schedule is packed full of sleep,' he says, looking over at the coffin on the floor of his hotel room. He really didn't want to have to resort to the circus of lugging one around, but imperfect blackout curtains and uncomfortable bathroom floors mean it's just safer.
'Soon, Louis. Take care.'
A final twinge of friendly affection, and they fade from each other.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Only a guess. How much does Louis truly know, other than he has the sense that Lestat is fragile, that he has been hurt? The concern that is Daniel provided real pressure, Lestat would crack apart?
And the certainty that Louis should not be in the room. Lestat deserves to speak without the pressure Louis would exert even by sitting silently alongside him.
(He will not be Armand. Not even in pale shadow.)
You've decided on your subject then? For a second book?
no subject
'There's a demand, and there's a limit on the things I can get after, now,', he says, which is not really an answer. But he sounds thoughtful. 'It'll be a long time, maybe longer than I'll make it, until I can go harass a sitting senator at high noon at McDonald's again.'
Three hundred years? Four hundred? Never, because the blood of the true ancients has diluted on its way to Daniel? In any event, there are many things off the table. Daniel has utilized the internet and remote work before, always keeping up with new resources the moment they've been made available, but he's hands-on.
Other sunless freaks are just going to be easier to track down, now.
'But, no, I haven't decided. I think the things I was working on before this are toast now, but I might still go back to them. In between whatever this ends up being, anyway.'
no subject
I won't intrude, Louis tells him. If you chose to focus on him as your subject.
Spare Daniel the necessity to ask. Head off whatever Lestat might request.
no subject
Fuck, but he hated it. Still hates it, as he's sorting out whether to do refunds or hold them at night then box the project up, never to be seen again.
This is what he wants to do. And maybe some of it is a compulsion knitted into his brain by Louis, the voice of God, or an angel, hell, maybe a lot of it is. But it's also euphoric, because he can actually do it now, after he had bitterly resigned himself to a slow, miserable decay.
'Thanks,' is wry. Fond, despite it. 'But for the record, you're allowed. You have intruding rights with me, no matter what I'm doing, forever. Even for stupid reasons. Doesn't matter, you've got a pass, and I welcome it.'
no subject
It is unexpectedly touching to be so explicitly welcomed. To be explicitly welcomed by Daniel. How much damage has Louis done to his life? A wrecking ball of a figure, in spite of his best intentions, and still, he is welcomed.
I've missed you, Daniel.
Disarmed enough to say this. He had missed Daniel after San Francisco in a passing, absent way. An ache in the body that lacked true definition, so stripped of context.
He has missed Daniel now, in the wake of their interview. The cavernous penthouse absent of him (absent of Armand) and though Daniel's stay had been a blink compared to the rest of Louis' long, long life, it had left an impression.
no subject
Well. Friend, singular, now they each actually have one in the other.
'Yeah, well.' Louis will be able to feel how pleased that makes him, and how embarrassed he is at his own reaction. Flustered, but he's out of practice with emotional significance. 'I was lonely, too. And despite everything.'
A pause. Daniel isn't reluctant to share, as much as he just wants to be clear— and tenderness is something else he's very out of practice with.
'Despite everything, I liked it.'
He liked their date in San Francisco. He liked the times in Dubai when it was them, talking. Because of Louis, who he probably missed even when he couldn't remember him properly, who he definitely misses now.
no subject
Louis is pleased to have flustered him. Pleased too with what follows after, Daniel moving past Yeah, well into something fonder.
Their patchwork history, so recently pieced back into a whole. Louis bearing the agony, heaving himself out of the coffin Armand had lowered him into, skin flaking, body screaming in pain as he had lurched into the doorway and beyond.
So did I.
Maybe like isn't the right word. But it's right for parts. For the ease of their conversation. For their rapport, a little worse for wear but intact.
I would like it if we were to do it again, with some regularity.
no subject
He isn't embarrassed or motivated to hide it, but there's plenty going on right now. Maybe someday. Maybe after the 100 years of space Armand said he'd give him. Which is another thing going on, another thing as yet unspoken, because Armand is not sticking to 100 years. For reasons of respect and emotion, Daniel lets the first thing go unspoken; for reasons of caution, he delays the second thing. He wants to talk it over in person.
But until then—
Feelings bubble up. Not adept at hiding them, like he's not adept at preventing himself from speaking more than half of this exchange aloud.
'I think that's a good idea.'
How do vampires handle that? Pencil in weekly brain dates? —Well, they're rich (!) (exciting), they could also probably jet-set wherever. But no matter what, keeping up regular contact with Louis will make Daniel very happy. Their book is no longer an in-progress hurdle between them burning a hole in their mutual awareness, and they can ... just be.
no subject
Daniel's feelings. They are a background hum to his answer, insubstantial but unmistakable. Louis lets them be, for the moment.
Marvels at how some things never change. Daniel, still deeply interesting. Still magnetic.
Still easy to talk to.
I have been keeping names for you, as if presenting a gift. Particularly vocal detractors, and the voices I hear speaking most often in support of them.
no subject
'Think any of them have social media accounts?' Probably not. Louis will be able to hear Daniel's smile. 'That's great, though. I catch stuff, but it's— a lot, to get used to. Overwhelming. I'm sure that sounds like kid stuff.'
Headaches, sometimes. No awareness he is moving faster than he should with becoming adept at it, thanks to being turned by a vampire considered too old to safely make fledglings.
'What's your instinct, about how far this goes? Do you think the wider vampire community will ease up after a few failed attempts, or double down?'
no subject
You're picking up more than I did at your age.
A throwaway compliment, on the way to:
We threatened them. Jeopardized their plans for the future. Or I did, they believe.
Things they've talked about in passing that Louis is certain Daniel had noted.
Humanity's advantage is their misalignment. You may recall, vampires are given to some degree of infighting.
Ha, ha.
no subject
Won't vampires just love this hot take. Hello, ancient predators, it doesn't matter how hedonistic you are or how much wealth you have, you are still weird little cult freaks.
(He has not phrased it this way to Armand.)
(Yet.)
'Do you still believe in the Conversion?' Pause, then: 'Did you ever?'
It fell so quickly to the wayside. Daniel never bought it, and Louis forgot to bring it up again. A dramatic-sounding but ultimately flimsy pretense.
no subject
No, he offers. Perhaps we would have been pressed to take a stance one way or the other, but Armand was granted a certain amount of deference. As his companion, I enjoyed it as well.
Spared from aligning himself one way or the other. The book would have been inflammatory even had it gone as Armand had hoped. If Daniel had left with a manuscript.
Perhaps Armand had tired of him. Perhaps he would have let Louis die in the rage of retribution.
You have given us an opportunity to decrease their numbers. As powerful as we are, we should not rule here.
no subject
Did Daniel try one because he's got one of those 'real sunlight' alarm clocks? Obviously. Really itchy.
Nothing like a common enemy that can actually be fought to shake off the political mire of hand washing and masks. Humans will make a death laser in an instant and leave it on all night then drop an actual nuke on any remaining vampires, so, yeah. A bad plan, even if one were inclined towards the whole apex superiority thing.
'This is gonna continue to get weird, isn't it.'
no subject
Why pretend otherwise?
Louis' story had trailed off at the end. A deliberate choice, a concession to Armand. Their life together withheld, shrouded beyond the sketch of a timeline Louis offered to Daniel.
But Louis has lived long enough, gleaned enough knowledge, to know that the vampires roaming the world have more than enough potential to make it weird. In covens or otherwise, long-lived, near untouchable creatures develop their own strangeness to one degree or another.
Its unlikely they know about you, is one theory. Unless Armand has chosen to announce that you've joined our number.
Some cover for Daniel. An advantage. Vampires shocked to discover the human they came to drain is no longer the easy target they assumed.
no subject
Louis will feel Daniel do a funny little thing. Confidence, followed by a ping of second-guessing, as though going back to question his own confidence. But he doubles down. Armand has not. It'd be worse if he had, he thinks, and not just by making him a more interesting target. Worse because it would mean Armand was spiraling.
He doesn't want to feel too close into the subject of his maker, though. Not yet. Not while things can get caught in the crossfire of psychic... whateverness. Daniel may be a fast learner, but he's not adept enough to feel completely secure with it.
'You feel comfortable making the trip out here?'
no subject
And he lets the subject go. Daniel doesn't pursue it, and Louis permits him the space. The then towards a different topic.
I'm not afraid.
Is that what Daniel's asking? Comfort and the absence of fear are not quite the same thing.
So he adds:
I'd like to attend one of your readings, Louis tells him, a smile in his voice. I'd like to see you. To see you both.
no subject
Which is
cute of him.
Infuriatingly. Daniel smiles to himself, pleased at success and a little embarrassed by it, because it's such strange success. He's never had to fight for legitimacy before, on a book tour, but he kind of likes arguing ('kind of') so it's been fun.
'I'd like that, too. We'll hope for a quiet evening, and call it a success if nobody calls the cops, huh?'
no subject
Would Daniel be affronted if Louis let himself out quietly of a reading? He wants very much to listen to Daniel, to observe in person the spectacle of him promoting his work.
But it is difficult, as the subject of the work, to completely detach himself from the scrutiny directed at it. Louis is certain he'd enjoy watching Daniel spar with those who question the veracity of the account, but those who question the minutia of the story—
Louis isn't certain he cares to hear that.
But perhaps no one asks after the details. Why pick over it now?
Is that a frequent worry? Cops intruding on your readings?
no subject
They'll see how it goes.
'Vampires, secret agents, murder plots. Shit's weird, and New York is even weirder,' he says, laughter in his mental voice. 'Everything and nothing are possible.'
no subject
Ha, ha.
The impulse to spin this conversation out further. Keep Daniel on the line, prompt his laughter. The memory of San Francisco is clear in his mind. The good, before all the bad. He'd liked making Daniel laugh then too.
But—
I'll let you go. I'm sure you've much to do.
And added quickly after
I'll see you soon.
no subject
'Soon, Louis. Take care.'
A final twinge of friendly affection, and they fade from each other.