The last person drops and Daniel staggers back, this time feeling more sparks of their life— dull, bitter, a middling career in tourism customer service, a relationship that never resulted in marriage, a horrible feeling of a lifetime wasted and then, finally, a calming call to rest. The satisfaction of Finally, this rolls into him and Daniel can't help but feel an echo of it, even as something else takes over.

Fuck you, Armand.

Louis' hand on him feels crazy. All of this is making him cognizant of how long it's been since anyone's touched him in a way that hasn't been medical, or, recently thanks to Armand, gently threatening. He blames the resentful misery of this last victim.

Too many fucking emotions. He's dead, he's not dead, this can't be happening, this is very much happening.

Staring down at four bodies, the final one shivering their last. Blood on his mouth, a bit on the shirt, but it's not so bad. Too hungry to let anything go to waste. At least he feels more grounded, now, the thing inside of him demanding more, now, more, has shut up. He can still sense it, a creature that's grafted into himself like a fucked up horror movie monster, but it's been temporarily tamed.

"Okay."

Okay??? Tries again.

"Okay." A breath. "I have a question, and I want to preface it with saying that I don't want to, and that I'm asking from a purely practical standpoint, considering the logistics and morals of it all. Given that there's no fucking reason to have turned me into a vampire, and how many people I will apparently have to eat, and there's apparently thousands more vampires around today than at any time in history— should I just torch myself? Or sit in a locked room and starve? I was dying anyway. I had a lot set up to just go."

Again, he doesn't want to, but it might be a decent fuck you to Armand. Oh yeah, jerk?