The difference between telepathy and whatever this is—

Tactile, almost. Here, laying still, sinking inwards by some measure, Armand can do what feels like winding a finger around the thread that connects them, testing its tension. In answer, nearly, to the way Daniel holds him tightly, kisses him that way, says what he does—and only nearly because he is sure Daniel can't feel it. Right?

The bond between a maker and fledgling was flawed, he had said. He had believed. That they could never touch each other completely in the way two other vampires can meant that there was no true ability to trust and love and be united in the way that eternity had demanded. Another thing Lestat had disagreed about. Armand could play at vanity, and imagine his actions in New Orleans being done to prove him wrong.

"Yes," he says. Slightly movement, then, a creeping across of his hands to reset his hold on Daniel. "I'm here."

They hadn't, of course. But Daniel hadn't needed telepathy at all. Doesn't need it now, to put his arms close around Armand and bid him to stay.