A quick 'thanks' for the sentencing upgrade on his realtor, and then: extreme weirdness, commencing. Daniel isn't entirely sure they need to actually pause to do this, they could have just kicked out the third wheel and continued to talk, but it's so surreal he decides to see it through. And besides, he does need to tick this house off the list of things he's viewed.
Armand's commentary is ... something. Strange because it's Armand, because he's here. Daniel makes an effort to actually draw him into proper conversation about this or that, though it's obvious he's doing so— the ancient vampire just creeping about in the corners of his vision is unsettling. Armand is here, he might as well participate.
The basement has promise. The yard, not so much. A little cramped, but that's life in the big city.
"Needs a remodel," he says eventually, hands braced on a too-small door to the kitchen, which he leans into and observes for the second time. "I fucking hate the overhead lights."
A gesture, to the barrier between foyer and living room and stairwell. Drops his hand. Anyway.
"I'll wait outside."
And he's leaving, the brisk clip of neat shoes on shining wooden floors, passing by the real estate agent who doesn't appear to see him, but is standing up, hands pinching the bridge of his nose. Disoriented, some muscle strain from even a comfortable but unmoving position twinging down his back, headache raging, but does not appear to think much else is strange, or clock that he just stood up from a seated position on the floor.
And Daniel is a vampire. He can do what he wants with the guy, be it discuss the house or send him obliviously on his way with muddled memory or death. But here, Armand (on a delay, granted) invites that bit of distance, recalibration. He will head off the property, he will move to the street. He imagines this area will be quite loud during the day, but it won't matter when Daniel commits to sleep.
Considers that Daniel's house hunt is not his concern. Considers that this is simply a part of his brain he has a difficult time switching off. Considers the lack of stars in the sky, and waits.
The house seems unimportant. Just some insignificant blip. But of course he needs to progress his fucking (un)life, and so Daniel gets a grip once Armand is out the door, and reconnects with his agent. They chat a little, and the man is happy to believe they've already done a walk through. Getting late, and he seems to remember having been driving his client around, but Daniel reminds him that they met here.
It doesn't hurt. Gives him a mild twinge that's more discomfort than pain. On the mend.
Realtor turns lights off, locks door behind them. Into his car, and away, as Daniel takes his time down the front steps, so that he can stop and turn and look at it from the sidewalk. It's not a fortress in Dubai. But that's not his style.
Stands there for too long, maybe. He tells himself he's giving Armand space, and he's doing that, too. Mostly he's trying to figure out what the fuck is going on with him, why he's entertaining this at all, why he isn't saying I've changed my mind, fuck off forever. He holds up I was comfortable with doing so next to I didn't think of him at all, and tries understand.
Eventually, he is standing beside his maker.
Well. Here they fucking are.
"Do you have a bug in my email, or something, by the way?"
Daniel finds Armand standing ramrod straight neat a streetlamp, hands slid into coat pockets. The chill is bracing, but not unwelcome. It never got cold like this in Dubai, and even less for the amount of time he wound up spending in their perfectly temperature controlled penthouse.
He doesn't turn to greet Daniel, and he ignores his question.
"You did well in shutting me out."
It doesn't sound like a dig. He elaborates, "You, diving to Louis' defense after I opened the door to his mind. It was unexpected." And it does sound like a compliment, mildly delivered though it is.
Less a matter of brute force so much as finding a weakness, a blindspot, and pulling the trigger. Just like him to do so, Armand thought.
No response, though this time Daniel refrains from meanly nitpicking about that. Instead, he just notes it, and thinks: probably just means he's stalking him. Which is at least charming in a fucked-up way. Old fashioned. The manual transmission of haunting someone.
What Armand says instead catches him off-guard. Huh?
Daniel feels like he fumbled that, and badly. Still mentally tender from it, something that felt so small that hurt so fucking bad. He'd do it even if he knew it was going to hurt, he'd do it even if he knew it was going to be worse, but it was still embarrassing to be so wounded from so little. The compliment (?) bolsters him a bit, though it, like much of their interactions, feels perversely-won.
"I didn't know what I was doing."
Obviously.
"I guess you're ... familiar-shaped, already, even if I can't see in."
"Most vampires, in my experience, are capable only of reception and transmission. Reading thoughts, sending words. Even older ones never develop the muscle beyond that."
A glance sidelong.
"You have an ability. A way of seeing a mind like a complex machine rather than an object that produces and receives noise alone. You didn't know what you were doing because you haven't done it before, but you did it regardless."
Maybe it was Armand-shaped, maybe that helped, but nevertheless. If he'd been capable of anticipating anything further than a second forwards into the future, he'd have been certain of his own safety—Lestat, formidable, and entirely unable to access Louis' mind. Daniel, a fledgling, still figuring it all out. Louis, helpless under the light of the sun, under Armand's intimate knowledge of aforementioned complex machine.
Just as well, maybe, that Daniel had proven otherwise. "Self-effacement is not among your more flattering attributes," he adds, wry.
This is surprising, to Daniel. Louis hadn't ever gone into much detail about the specifics of mind control (no prize for guessing about why), but Daniel had assumed a certain mental acumen among vampires overall. Lestat's powers, Armand's, and even Claudia with the way she seemed to learn languages overnight. Louis struck Daniel as someone uninterested in practicing rather than simply incapable.
But maybe not?
Something to think about. Reevaluate. He thinks of telling one of the men he drained with Lestat to relax.
Put on a shelf to investigate later, because he gives Armand a sidelong look, then points at him, an ah-hah gesture. Something discovered.
"I was right," he muses. "You do like it when I'm arrogant."
"Perish the thought of there being some grey area in between the two things."
But also, every vampire loves a slider set to max, and the glance Armand gives Daniel is a little wry, followed by a shift of his posture. Looking at him, a glance up and down, renewed evaluation of the vampiric version of Daniel Molloy. Something that feels like his own creation. An inherited ability to toy with the mind, perhaps.
He probably has things worth sharing, as a maker. Tutorship does not come easily, no matter the way he'd used it as a lure for both Lestat and Louis. One, taking his gifts and running away. The other, a bad faith offer on his end, he knows, save for the gift of fire.
Does Daniel fly? Can he set things aflame with his mind? Violent telekinesis? Has he tried? This curiousity isn't new. It's all too familiar.
"You aren't just spending time."
Back on task. With Louis, he means. With Lestat, by extension. They're hardly meeting up for an occasional coffee date.
Interesting to note. Armand protests, but it doesn't sound like much of one, not really, particularly not with that looking coming at its heels. Daniel considers the difference between ego and arrogance, and the ability to follow through. Decides he doesn't like where those thoughts go, and reminds himself that he's mad at him. You hate this guy his brain points out, and Daniel tells it yeah, I know. I know.
He's mad at him, they hate each other, and he doesn't actually want Armand to teach him anything. Daniel can figure it out.
The rest—
"Sort of." He crosses his arms, just for something to do with his hands, and not wanting to mirror Armand's pose. "You heard Louis' stupid 'come find out' shout. And I'm sure you've heard the speculation about me, on the airwaves. It feels safer this way. And it may not be, because I'm not ignorant of the potential of making a more consolidated target. But isolation is damaging for regular reasons."
And now, behold, neither he nor Louis (nor the other guy) are isolated. A magic trick with no superpowers involved. Even fucking Armand is getting in a little socialization, nightmare-adjacent though it may be.
"As for Lestat, he intervened when I nearly got jumped by a couple of hostile vampires, so he's bought himself some leeway. I'm giving him a chance. If you think he doesn't deserve one, whatever, because keep in mind I haven't told you to leave me alone, either."
A flick of a look that communicates How convenient at the news of Lestat's entry into the story and, consequently, Daniel's good graces.
This last part sparing them both from it being verbalised. Where was Armand, after all, when Daniel was getting jumped by hostile vampires? Keeping his necessary distance. Trying for a bigger picture after being so up close to it all for so long, elbows deep, arranging everything just so. There is a part of him that could feel a little anxious for it, but it feels as though it's in hibernation.
"Strength in numbers," he concedes. It's been coven logic for a millennia. "And I don't know that I'd call Louis' challenge stupid. Predators respond to shows of strength, as long as you don't slip once tested."
A turn. Invitation to walk rather than spend too long in one place. Give the Talamasca some new scenery to work with.
"Yeah, it's the slipping thing I think about most."
Because Armand's right, it's inevitable. So much that Daniel doesn't worry, because fighting the future is pointless, he just tries to be aware. He walks alongside him, fully aware that they will eventually find themselves trailed - maybe Daniel will start to use them as test subjects for various skills, who knows - and wonders what photos of this will look like. Strange, probably.
"But it was part of my pitch, too. That you hovering around is probably sparing me an attempted beatdown or two. But sooner or later, probably sooner, hotheads less respectful of hierarchies or just less observant are going to shoot their shot. Probably while I'm heading up to Toronto and there's a necessary split. I've got a couple tabs on digital chatter and it hasn't entirely gone quiet. Some voices out there still really have it out for Louis, too, though nobody I've got ears on has noticed he left Dubai just yet."
Blah blah. Investigative journalist does investigative work.
"And you're in town for fun and because you missed the smell of ocean sewage and pizza, right?"
"Perhaps I'm here for the best seat in the house."
No joke is too soon, according to Armand, joyless as his delivery is.
He is here because his fledgling is here. Does Daniel expect him to say it out loud? He's been exercising honesty, and perhaps if it tasted of revelation, Armand would indulge it. But it feels obvious, and therefore a little pathetic for its obviousness. Where else is he meant to be?
Even on the other side of the world, a part of him had been tethered to Daniel's activities. Drawing him closer and closer. To circle back instead,
"I ask myself that all the more pointedly when you make shitty jokes about barbecuing people who were inconvenient to you."
A scathing tone, which is still crackling a bit for the immediate follow up of, "It's like you know when I'm starting to ease up on being mad at you, and you very helpfully remind me. Are you fucking doing that on purpose, somehow."
If Talamasca is listening in as well as watching, Daniel thinks he will just kill them. It's too personal and he's had enough with being stalked. They can cough up an easier walk to talk to Literally Samuel Beckett or they can go die.
He takes a breath, lets it out in a huff. Fine. He's fine.
"Because you showed up." It does feel pathetic for its obvious, doesn't it. Because you're my maker. He hates it. There's more to it than that, he thinks. He's pretty sure if Armand vanished in a puff of smoke in Dubai with no further incident, Daniel would still want to talk to him again, even just to irritate him on purpose. "I want to get you. I want to understand. I wasn't lying."
Something to file away: an impulse to snap. It was your shitty joke, Mr. Molloy. Needling the whole time, picking at the frayed edges of things, sarcasm and dismissal.
And the only reason he doesn't is because the idea of getting into that back and forth feels tantamount to nail pulling, and Armand isn't in the mood. Bickering about the interview, can you imagine? And Daniel would round on him, say something to make him feel foolish and grasping, more than he already does. So, just a little flex at the jaw, a continued moderate walking pace, his shoulders settled in a relaxed line.
Silence for a beat as they walk. Absorbing.
"You seemed to have a decent grasp of it, at the end of things."
Armand, Amadeo, Arun. A con artist, a liar, a monster deserving of the detonation playing out in front of his stupid face. If Daniel cares as deeply for Louis as he appears, what room is there for Armand?
It being his joke is precisely why he knows it's shitty. Daniel says things to provoke reactions. He asks stupid questions, he pushes at illogical buttons, he's insensitive and inflammatory, and after so many years, he struggles to stop doing this when he's not interviewing someone. Given everything he's experienced with Armand, he assumes Armand is re-using this joke for the same purpose. To be a dick.
It's a real fucking mystery why Daniel has no friends and has alienated all of his partners and children, huh. Alas, turning him into a vampire (against his will, to spite someone) has not made him a nicer person.
"Self-effacement doesn't look any better on you."
Here they are. Maker and fledgling. Great people. At least I haven't tortured anybody, Daniel might say, of his own personal assholery. But he's ruined plenty of lives. Armand's included. And yet, Armand threw a very painful tantrum over being told to leave Daniel alone.
A few beats of silence, as Armand considers at passive remove the way the potential for coherent explanation, truths and lies, spin wildly out around him, as disconnected as shattered debris blasted into the void of space. What he wants could probably be fitted together from those things.
It feels as easily articulated as reaching into the night sky, through the city smog, and rearranging the positions of the stars to spell it out for them both.
"I don't know," as a result. It feels reckless, honesty. Like handing someone weapons to injure him with, but Daniel, of all beings, scarcely needs the assistance. Self-effacement doesn't look good on him, but what other language is available? The defeated vampire, he'd described himself as in his mythmaking of the past. Prophetic.
The stars would probably spell something cloying. 'Companionship', just like any vampire. An unwieldy word. It would take several constellations.
"But I sometimes liked our conversations," he adds, instead. Cleaving closer.
Defensive and angry, oscillating between being a dick about it and attempting positive reinforcement, Daniel waits and listens. This is not altogether his best performance handling Armand, but perhaps he can be forgiven, between the timing and the surprise of it all.
And then. I don't know. Something about it makes him unwind.
Believable. He looks sidelong at Armand, and thinks it's perhaps the most honest he's been all night. This or the thing about not thinking about Louis, which is something that Daniel is still turning over in his head and contemplating. Yeah. Armand not knowing makes sense. And there's a kind of relief in hearing him say it. That he recognizes it. This boat they're both in is a fucking weird one.
Footsteps, night birds, distant traffic, distant lights.
"Me too."
Months ago. You were fascinating and you still are. I don't believe you're empty.
Moments ago. I wasn't lying.
"We have shit to work on, you and me." Quieter, now. "How do you feel about cautious optimism?"
They have being pedantic assholes in common, certainly. Dear, this is a Stein. At least here, it's knowing, and Armand doesn't allow the statement to sit in place for long. Daniel's tone, gentler. Maybe he's right and there is something of an instinct to aggravate when afforded some leeway, maybe Armand is doing it on purpose.
Here, something more schoolyard in tone than ruthless alienation. "But," but, "one I'd entertain. If you think your friendships can bear the strain of it."
Dovetailing character flaws. Daniel has the thought that Armand in a real argument would be fun, and then has to take a moment to stare at himself in incredulous disbelief. He can't even blame that on the mystique of the vampire bond— he's always liked trouble.
This is a lot of fucking trouble, though.
"Maybe they can't. I just hope so."
Daniel would like to think that Louis would still speak to him, still see him. This situation isn't ideal, but he deserves to explore ... whatever this is, with Armand. It's permanent, and they're immortal. He can feel him. He wants to be able to figure it out and not worry about fighting, or fucking psychic bombs.
"It'd help if I didn't have to worry about you trying to fry Louis' brain for overstepping. I know trusting each other is a long way away, if it's possible at all, but do you think you can believe me when I say I'm not asking you to leave?"
A tip of his head, like working loose some tense muscle—
"Alright."
If Daniel is willing to extend him some faith, given everything, then it seems only fair that Armand do the same, also given everything. "Give me your cellular device."
He will continue to sound like a huge dork until morale improves.
Which it won't. Louis will not let this go, he thinks, among the most stubborn of men that Armand has ever met in his long (and admittedly cloistered) life. Maybe he will afford Daniel his agency in fucking around and finding out, given his own recent hobbies, but Armand's sins against him are thorough, stacked tall.
Armand has to decide that it won't be his problem any longer. It will be Daniel's. And it will only become his problem again if Daniel can't manage it himself. (Kidnapping not off the table.)
Coping with the delayed realization that he's implied he'll pick Armand over Louis and Lestat if it comes down to it (fuck fuck fuck fuck, is that true, but Louis knows he'd been looking for him, asked about him every time they spoke, is it just this fucking bond in their stupid fucking heads), Daniel can't even come up with a bitey comment about cellular device.
So he just takes out his phone and unlocks it, before handing it to Armand.
Fine.
Hitting the finding out stage is inevitable. Daniel is, unfortunately, the type to invite too much fucking around. If Armand wanted a fledgling who wasn't a pain in the ass, maybe he should have thought about anything at all before he went through with.
"The slumber party routine won't last forever," he mentions as an aside, while Armand is loading a Trojan onto his phone, or whatever.
Bugging the device would be sensible, and Daniel might even allow for it when he inevitably notices. Another time, perhaps, when Armand is better prepared. For now, a direct line that will allow for more efficient communication than coded messages implanted in the brains of human sacrifices or emails bounced through lawyers. He puts the letter 'A' as the contact.
"It's gone on longer than I'd have expected," does not sound, at least, like a complaint, or a dig. Wry. Lestat is annoying at the very least, never mind that Daniel seems to value his own space. Armand offers back the phone.
A quick zigzagging once over.
"I'm choosing to believe your interest in open communication doesn't only extend towards mitigation," he says. "Or hope for a sequel."
Daniel lowers his head to give him a look over tinted lenses, which he continues to forget to remove. What was that. Felt an awful lot like some of the odder moments in Dubai. Why did you make me. Why are you angry Louis asked you to stay away. What the fuck am I to you.
Hmph. He holds his hand out to receive his phone, and accepts it.
"If I wasn't eminently tolerant of weird bullshit I'd have left that tower in the desert after twelve hours," he points out. Some arguments, some awkwardness? He'll survive. Lestat hasn't tried to kill him, yet, but even if he does, it probably won't be as screwed up as what Armand's put him through. It'll be fine.
"And I'm choosing to believe your presence isn't only because you think it's funny to try and scare me."
Meeting halfway, or something like that. Look at them go.
"Since we're being honest tonight: I don't know, exactly. But I'd like it if we were used to each other. In whatever shape it takes. I'm too fucking old to remember how to hang out, which means you definitely are too, but I have faith we can puzzle through it."
What sounds like Daniel verbalising something he has been circling, of wanting conversation, open communication, is met with some internal amount of resistance. Like being handed an adorable kitten and feeling the urge to clench your hands tightly, and only not doing so because the end result would be the opposite of what motivates the action. His jaws itch with the desire to close around flesh.
"We're walking down the sidewalk," he says. "Having a chat."
This constitutes as hanging out, doesn't it? Look at them go.
"Perhaps you can choose where we next cross paths. Less chance of my appearing to want to scare you."
One of the strangest things about the interview — maybe the strangest — was watching Louis with Armand, and the way Louis regarded Armand as a presently kind, previously slightly pitiful, ancient-like-an-antique creature, while Daniel sat across from him and thought That's a fucking megalodon. He thinks it now, looking at him.
If Armand tortured him again, would Daniel stay lucid through it? Could he ask him questions? Would Armand answer? Would the answers be different than ones he might offer while walking down the sidewalk, chatting?
"I haven't minded all of it."
For the record. Messages in sacrifices were alarming, but—
You know. Interesting. And he'd poked back, when he knew he shouldn't have. (Didn't care. Told himself it was investigating, learning, and it was, but Louis' right and Daniel's become a cold killer, and morality is negotiable at best, because he doesn't actually like people very much.) The book signing was nice, in a genuine way. He might not even hate this, because of the honesty.
"Coffee shops? Bars? Mini golf?" Public places with witnesses. What a little bitch move. "My apartment?"
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Armand's commentary is ... something. Strange because it's Armand, because he's here. Daniel makes an effort to actually draw him into proper conversation about this or that, though it's obvious he's doing so— the ancient vampire just creeping about in the corners of his vision is unsettling. Armand is here, he might as well participate.
The basement has promise. The yard, not so much. A little cramped, but that's life in the big city.
"Needs a remodel," he says eventually, hands braced on a too-small door to the kitchen, which he leans into and observes for the second time. "I fucking hate the overhead lights."
All about the location, though.
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A gesture, to the barrier between foyer and living room and stairwell. Drops his hand. Anyway.
"I'll wait outside."
And he's leaving, the brisk clip of neat shoes on shining wooden floors, passing by the real estate agent who doesn't appear to see him, but is standing up, hands pinching the bridge of his nose. Disoriented, some muscle strain from even a comfortable but unmoving position twinging down his back, headache raging, but does not appear to think much else is strange, or clock that he just stood up from a seated position on the floor.
And Daniel is a vampire. He can do what he wants with the guy, be it discuss the house or send him obliviously on his way with muddled memory or death. But here, Armand (on a delay, granted) invites that bit of distance, recalibration. He will head off the property, he will move to the street. He imagines this area will be quite loud during the day, but it won't matter when Daniel commits to sleep.
Considers that Daniel's house hunt is not his concern. Considers that this is simply a part of his brain he has a difficult time switching off. Considers the lack of stars in the sky, and waits.
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It doesn't hurt. Gives him a mild twinge that's more discomfort than pain. On the mend.
Realtor turns lights off, locks door behind them. Into his car, and away, as Daniel takes his time down the front steps, so that he can stop and turn and look at it from the sidewalk. It's not a fortress in Dubai. But that's not his style.
Stands there for too long, maybe. He tells himself he's giving Armand space, and he's doing that, too. Mostly he's trying to figure out what the fuck is going on with him, why he's entertaining this at all, why he isn't saying I've changed my mind, fuck off forever. He holds up I was comfortable with doing so next to I didn't think of him at all, and tries understand.
Eventually, he is standing beside his maker.
Well. Here they fucking are.
"Do you have a bug in my email, or something, by the way?"
Like how did you know to be here, pal.
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He doesn't turn to greet Daniel, and he ignores his question.
"You did well in shutting me out."
It doesn't sound like a dig. He elaborates, "You, diving to Louis' defense after I opened the door to his mind. It was unexpected." And it does sound like a compliment, mildly delivered though it is.
Less a matter of brute force so much as finding a weakness, a blindspot, and pulling the trigger. Just like him to do so, Armand thought.
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What Armand says instead catches him off-guard. Huh?
Daniel feels like he fumbled that, and badly. Still mentally tender from it, something that felt so small that hurt so fucking bad. He'd do it even if he knew it was going to hurt, he'd do it even if he knew it was going to be worse, but it was still embarrassing to be so wounded from so little. The compliment (?) bolsters him a bit, though it, like much of their interactions, feels perversely-won.
"I didn't know what I was doing."
Obviously.
"I guess you're ... familiar-shaped, already, even if I can't see in."
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A glance sidelong.
"You have an ability. A way of seeing a mind like a complex machine rather than an object that produces and receives noise alone. You didn't know what you were doing because you haven't done it before, but you did it regardless."
Maybe it was Armand-shaped, maybe that helped, but nevertheless. If he'd been capable of anticipating anything further than a second forwards into the future, he'd have been certain of his own safety—Lestat, formidable, and entirely unable to access Louis' mind. Daniel, a fledgling, still figuring it all out. Louis, helpless under the light of the sun, under Armand's intimate knowledge of aforementioned complex machine.
Just as well, maybe, that Daniel had proven otherwise. "Self-effacement is not among your more flattering attributes," he adds, wry.
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But maybe not?
Something to think about. Reevaluate. He thinks of telling one of the men he drained with Lestat to relax.
Put on a shelf to investigate later, because he gives Armand a sidelong look, then points at him, an ah-hah gesture. Something discovered.
"I was right," he muses. "You do like it when I'm arrogant."
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But also, every vampire loves a slider set to max, and the glance Armand gives Daniel is a little wry, followed by a shift of his posture. Looking at him, a glance up and down, renewed evaluation of the vampiric version of Daniel Molloy. Something that feels like his own creation. An inherited ability to toy with the mind, perhaps.
He probably has things worth sharing, as a maker. Tutorship does not come easily, no matter the way he'd used it as a lure for both Lestat and Louis. One, taking his gifts and running away. The other, a bad faith offer on his end, he knows, save for the gift of fire.
Does Daniel fly? Can he set things aflame with his mind? Violent telekinesis? Has he tried? This curiousity isn't new. It's all too familiar.
"You aren't just spending time."
Back on task. With Louis, he means. With Lestat, by extension. They're hardly meeting up for an occasional coffee date.
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Interesting to note. Armand protests, but it doesn't sound like much of one, not really, particularly not with that looking coming at its heels. Daniel considers the difference between ego and arrogance, and the ability to follow through. Decides he doesn't like where those thoughts go, and reminds himself that he's mad at him. You hate this guy his brain points out, and Daniel tells it yeah, I know. I know.
He's mad at him, they hate each other, and he doesn't actually want Armand to teach him anything. Daniel can figure it out.
The rest—
"Sort of." He crosses his arms, just for something to do with his hands, and not wanting to mirror Armand's pose. "You heard Louis' stupid 'come find out' shout. And I'm sure you've heard the speculation about me, on the airwaves. It feels safer this way. And it may not be, because I'm not ignorant of the potential of making a more consolidated target. But isolation is damaging for regular reasons."
And now, behold, neither he nor Louis (nor the other guy) are isolated. A magic trick with no superpowers involved. Even fucking Armand is getting in a little socialization, nightmare-adjacent though it may be.
"As for Lestat, he intervened when I nearly got jumped by a couple of hostile vampires, so he's bought himself some leeway. I'm giving him a chance. If you think he doesn't deserve one, whatever, because keep in mind I haven't told you to leave me alone, either."
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This last part sparing them both from it being verbalised. Where was Armand, after all, when Daniel was getting jumped by hostile vampires? Keeping his necessary distance. Trying for a bigger picture after being so up close to it all for so long, elbows deep, arranging everything just so. There is a part of him that could feel a little anxious for it, but it feels as though it's in hibernation.
"Strength in numbers," he concedes. It's been coven logic for a millennia. "And I don't know that I'd call Louis' challenge stupid. Predators respond to shows of strength, as long as you don't slip once tested."
A turn. Invitation to walk rather than spend too long in one place. Give the Talamasca some new scenery to work with.
"And you will slip," bears saying.
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Because Armand's right, it's inevitable. So much that Daniel doesn't worry, because fighting the future is pointless, he just tries to be aware. He walks alongside him, fully aware that they will eventually find themselves trailed - maybe Daniel will start to use them as test subjects for various skills, who knows - and wonders what photos of this will look like. Strange, probably.
"But it was part of my pitch, too. That you hovering around is probably sparing me an attempted beatdown or two. But sooner or later, probably sooner, hotheads less respectful of hierarchies or just less observant are going to shoot their shot. Probably while I'm heading up to Toronto and there's a necessary split. I've got a couple tabs on digital chatter and it hasn't entirely gone quiet. Some voices out there still really have it out for Louis, too, though nobody I've got ears on has noticed he left Dubai just yet."
Blah blah. Investigative journalist does investigative work.
"And you're in town for fun and because you missed the smell of ocean sewage and pizza, right?"
Or did he just want to get his book signed.
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No joke is too soon, according to Armand, joyless as his delivery is.
He is here because his fledgling is here. Does Daniel expect him to say it out loud? He's been exercising honesty, and perhaps if it tasted of revelation, Armand would indulge it. But it feels obvious, and therefore a little pathetic for its obviousness. Where else is he meant to be?
Even on the other side of the world, a part of him had been tethered to Daniel's activities. Drawing him closer and closer. To circle back instead,
"Why haven't you told me to leave you alone?"
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A scathing tone, which is still crackling a bit for the immediate follow up of, "It's like you know when I'm starting to ease up on being mad at you, and you very helpfully remind me. Are you fucking doing that on purpose, somehow."
If Talamasca is listening in as well as watching, Daniel thinks he will just kill them. It's too personal and he's had enough with being stalked. They can cough up an easier walk to talk to Literally Samuel Beckett or they can go die.
He takes a breath, lets it out in a huff. Fine. He's fine.
"Because you showed up." It does feel pathetic for its obvious, doesn't it. Because you're my maker. He hates it. There's more to it than that, he thinks. He's pretty sure if Armand vanished in a puff of smoke in Dubai with no further incident, Daniel would still want to talk to him again, even just to irritate him on purpose. "I want to get you. I want to understand. I wasn't lying."
Armand's never been boring.
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And the only reason he doesn't is because the idea of getting into that back and forth feels tantamount to nail pulling, and Armand isn't in the mood. Bickering about the interview, can you imagine? And Daniel would round on him, say something to make him feel foolish and grasping, more than he already does. So, just a little flex at the jaw, a continued moderate walking pace, his shoulders settled in a relaxed line.
Silence for a beat as they walk. Absorbing.
"You seemed to have a decent grasp of it, at the end of things."
Armand, Amadeo, Arun. A con artist, a liar, a monster deserving of the detonation playing out in front of his stupid face. If Daniel cares as deeply for Louis as he appears, what room is there for Armand?
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It's a real fucking mystery why Daniel has no friends and has alienated all of his partners and children, huh. Alas, turning him into a vampire (against his will, to spite someone) has not made him a nicer person.
"Self-effacement doesn't look any better on you."
Here they are. Maker and fledgling. Great people. At least I haven't tortured anybody, Daniel might say, of his own personal assholery. But he's ruined plenty of lives. Armand's included. And yet, Armand threw a very painful tantrum over being told to leave Daniel alone.
"What do you want out of this?"
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It feels as easily articulated as reaching into the night sky, through the city smog, and rearranging the positions of the stars to spell it out for them both.
"I don't know," as a result. It feels reckless, honesty. Like handing someone weapons to injure him with, but Daniel, of all beings, scarcely needs the assistance. Self-effacement doesn't look good on him, but what other language is available? The defeated vampire, he'd described himself as in his mythmaking of the past. Prophetic.
The stars would probably spell something cloying. 'Companionship', just like any vampire. An unwieldy word. It would take several constellations.
"But I sometimes liked our conversations," he adds, instead. Cleaving closer.
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And then. I don't know. Something about it makes him unwind.
Believable. He looks sidelong at Armand, and thinks it's perhaps the most honest he's been all night. This or the thing about not thinking about Louis, which is something that Daniel is still turning over in his head and contemplating. Yeah. Armand not knowing makes sense. And there's a kind of relief in hearing him say it. That he recognizes it. This boat they're both in is a fucking weird one.
Footsteps, night birds, distant traffic, distant lights.
"Me too."
Months ago. You were fascinating and you still are. I don't believe you're empty.
Moments ago. I wasn't lying.
"We have shit to work on, you and me." Quieter, now. "How do you feel about cautious optimism?"
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They have being pedantic assholes in common, certainly. Dear, this is a Stein. At least here, it's knowing, and Armand doesn't allow the statement to sit in place for long. Daniel's tone, gentler. Maybe he's right and there is something of an instinct to aggravate when afforded some leeway, maybe Armand is doing it on purpose.
Here, something more schoolyard in tone than ruthless alienation. "But," but, "one I'd entertain. If you think your friendships can bear the strain of it."
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This is a lot of fucking trouble, though.
"Maybe they can't. I just hope so."
Daniel would like to think that Louis would still speak to him, still see him. This situation isn't ideal, but he deserves to explore ... whatever this is, with Armand. It's permanent, and they're immortal. He can feel him. He wants to be able to figure it out and not worry about fighting, or fucking psychic bombs.
"It'd help if I didn't have to worry about you trying to fry Louis' brain for overstepping. I know trusting each other is a long way away, if it's possible at all, but do you think you can believe me when I say I'm not asking you to leave?"
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"Alright."
If Daniel is willing to extend him some faith, given everything, then it seems only fair that Armand do the same, also given everything. "Give me your cellular device."
He will continue to sound like a huge dork until morale improves.
Which it won't. Louis will not let this go, he thinks, among the most stubborn of men that Armand has ever met in his long (and admittedly cloistered) life. Maybe he will afford Daniel his agency in fucking around and finding out, given his own recent hobbies, but Armand's sins against him are thorough, stacked tall.
Armand has to decide that it won't be his problem any longer. It will be Daniel's. And it will only become his problem again if Daniel can't manage it himself. (Kidnapping not off the table.)
He holds out his hand for the phone.
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So he just takes out his phone and unlocks it, before handing it to Armand.
Fine.
Hitting the finding out stage is inevitable. Daniel is, unfortunately, the type to invite too much fucking around. If Armand wanted a fledgling who wasn't a pain in the ass, maybe he should have thought about anything at all before he went through with.
"The slumber party routine won't last forever," he mentions as an aside, while Armand is loading a Trojan onto his phone, or whatever.
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Bugging the device would be sensible, and Daniel might even allow for it when he inevitably notices. Another time, perhaps, when Armand is better prepared. For now, a direct line that will allow for more efficient communication than coded messages implanted in the brains of human sacrifices or emails bounced through lawyers. He puts the letter 'A' as the contact.
"It's gone on longer than I'd have expected," does not sound, at least, like a complaint, or a dig. Wry. Lestat is annoying at the very least, never mind that Daniel seems to value his own space. Armand offers back the phone.
A quick zigzagging once over.
"I'm choosing to believe your interest in open communication doesn't only extend towards mitigation," he says. "Or hope for a sequel."
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Hmph. He holds his hand out to receive his phone, and accepts it.
"If I wasn't eminently tolerant of weird bullshit I'd have left that tower in the desert after twelve hours," he points out. Some arguments, some awkwardness? He'll survive. Lestat hasn't tried to kill him, yet, but even if he does, it probably won't be as screwed up as what Armand's put him through. It'll be fine.
"And I'm choosing to believe your presence isn't only because you think it's funny to try and scare me."
Meeting halfway, or something like that. Look at them go.
"Since we're being honest tonight: I don't know, exactly. But I'd like it if we were used to each other. In whatever shape it takes. I'm too fucking old to remember how to hang out, which means you definitely are too, but I have faith we can puzzle through it."
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What sounds like Daniel verbalising something he has been circling, of wanting conversation, open communication, is met with some internal amount of resistance. Like being handed an adorable kitten and feeling the urge to clench your hands tightly, and only not doing so because the end result would be the opposite of what motivates the action. His jaws itch with the desire to close around flesh.
"We're walking down the sidewalk," he says. "Having a chat."
This constitutes as hanging out, doesn't it? Look at them go.
"Perhaps you can choose where we next cross paths. Less chance of my appearing to want to scare you."
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If Armand tortured him again, would Daniel stay lucid through it? Could he ask him questions? Would Armand answer? Would the answers be different than ones he might offer while walking down the sidewalk, chatting?
"I haven't minded all of it."
For the record. Messages in sacrifices were alarming, but—
You know. Interesting. And he'd poked back, when he knew he shouldn't have. (Didn't care. Told himself it was investigating, learning, and it was, but Louis' right and Daniel's become a cold killer, and morality is negotiable at best, because he doesn't actually like people very much.) The book signing was nice, in a genuine way. He might not even hate this, because of the honesty.
"Coffee shops? Bars? Mini golf?" Public places with witnesses. What a little bitch move. "My apartment?"
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