Familiar, yes, but not quite used to. Pleased to be adjacent to the hum of the machinery, to feel the buzz of Daniel tracing ten trains of thought at once, of Daniel unraveling tangles of information down to an answer.

He draws in closer, drawing carefully nearer. Easy to expel, if Daniel gives he slightest indication he doesn't appreciate Louis' proximity.

Your memoir?

Thinking back, recalling the day in which he'd lifted Daniel's book from the stand. Armand's hand had been resting at the small of his back. The clerk had handed Louis the book back wrapped in brown paper. He'd waited to open it, choosing a moment alone, let his fingers trail down the page.

Louis lets Daniel have these impressions, while he considers—

The night we met.

Louis had touched his mind that night, yes. But it had been years. How did Daniel remember it? Remember them?