Behind Daniel, the tree immolates. A burst of fire from inside of itself, deep where the trunk begins splitting into roots. Flame floods upwards, escaping containment, ribboning along the branches, catching on pink petals. It's dizzyingly fast, the power and force of this inferno—no build at all before the whole thing is wreathed in fire.

"One down."

A shake to his voice. Louis is gone. Plants? Does he like plants? What did he feel when he carefully packed his magnolia clipping, one of the essential things he brought with him? He doesn't remember, now. This wasn't his odyssey of recollection.

Daniel doesn't run. Not like his usual prey, before they collapse, shaking, begging. Daniel stands in his fear. Is that what makes him fascinating?

Surges forward. Lands. His hands finding Daniel's face, and he is very strong. Even this configuration, this cage of fingers that doesn't dig or bruise, is just the right kind of unyielding that there is no real means of wrenching away.

A fire alarm goes off. Piercing.

"We were going to offer it," he says, voice raising over the sound. "The gift. We were going to give you a choice."