"Yeah. He probably just told me to go in there and stay."

No conscious positioning, everything incidental, until Daniel laid down because the Lovecraft monster was no longer controlling his body, but he was too exhausted and in pain to do anything else. Desperately in need of actual rest, and not the kind that came from invisible tentacles in his fucking brain.

Daniel's hand feels inelegant, next to Louis'. Thick fingers warped with age, nimble again now but no more attractive for it; nails a little longer than he'd like, but he supposes they echo his fangs. Strange, all of it. Not unwelcome. Nothing's perfect, especially not death, but it beats the way life was.

"I just have perspective. You didn't know there was any other way to look at it."

Inhale, exhale.

"If you don't want to be bogged down by all this..."