It's shitty and he's aware, but Daniel is holding his ground about it. Not moving forward with the book is untenable, and always was— which Louis knows, somewhere deep down. He's partially responsible for it. Not just the content of the book, but for driving it into Daniel's head when he was a kid, giving him a throughline for his entire life. Always there. Always had a job, always wanted to work, even when everything else was sinking.

And things have been sinking in a very unique way, lately.

Watching Louis sit down, like they're getting ready for another interview, forces a lopsided smile onto his face. Things are tense and awkward, but he does care for Louis. A deep personal care completely sectioned away from his bullheaded inability to not publish, sure, but genuine. Louis, still all the things he is, and he gets to be them honestly now. Free from Armand. Even if Louis hates him for the book, Daniel's glad he blew everything up.

"I know."

Allows it, though whether or not that's accepting, Louis will have to decide for himself. Daniel's tone is soft, at least.

"And, hey." He shrugs. Considers a chair for himself, but does not yet pick one. "Armand can't get into my head anymore, which is a huge plus. Probably part of why he flipped and bolted."

Speaking the name into existence, making it real. Armand turned him, Armand is his maker, with his ancient blood from some pederast wannabe painter who walked the earth alongside Christ. Some real top shelf nonsense, given to the most annoying old man to ever live. Daniel's expression twists slightly, reluctant, shuttered. He can't stop himself from asking, and resents it.

"Have you heard from him?"