Louis glad he did. He is sorry he did. Both by turns, depending on how near the reality of what Armand must have done in his absence is to Louis' thoughts. It lingers now, as Daniel smiles a wavering little smile back at him.

Feels it in his chest, this thing Daniel tells him. Fifty years. Fifty years of Daniel dreaming him. Fifty years of Louis missing him, following him through paper and ink and never considering anything more.

"You."

And then, more specifically:

"Did you ask me..."

A trailing quiet, Louis ordering his thoughts. Circling around a soft spot in his mind, an incision so neat Louis may never have realized it was there.

"Did you ask me before, if I felt real?"