Little sparks of curiosity, not all of it innocent (curiosity isn't inherently good, or anything). But Daniel isn't here to prod at Louis' seams— that's behind them, and the road ahead is still... whatever they make of it. And there's a road ahead for Louis and Lestat, too. Which is, despite the meddling he's neck-deep in most days, not actually any of his business.

"Maybe I'm going nuts," is what he ends up saying. Decides for dreaming, instead of anything else. Tales of partying are kind of a whatever, and holding their own potential for memory issues, though granted, for far more mundane, self-inflicted reasons. Turns out vampires can still get blackout drunk. "Just imagining things, my brain trying to fill in the gaps. I try not to think about San Fransisco, but sometimes I go through the whole thing again while I'm asleep."

As though sleeping during the day has had some kind of additional supernatural effect on him, conjuring up the past that his mortal mind had forced to forget. Or maybe being severed from Armand telepathically has made it freer, more accessible, but requiring subconscious contact first.

Or, and this is the most likely explanation, these new edits are simply not real.

"Blank, in places where it was always blank, but sometimes..." Daniel shrugs.