No sea legs yet. Slipping around, but not quite as frantic as one might expect from a new vampire— maybe it's the power borrowed from Armand, the only fledgling of one so old, or maybe it's just Daniel, possessed of the kind of razor-sharp intellect that holds through metric fucktons of drugs, stress, decades of high octane investigations, and one special occasions, torture.

His head is like a cluttered, lively office space. Always quick thinking, always direct and cutting, but it's supercharged now, and it takes him a moment to really focus on Louis. The other vampire will be able to catch impressions of the way he's been practicing, mentally eavesdropping on mortals, all the while pretending he can't quite figure it out. No guidance, no mentor, oh poor unfortunate Daniel Molloy, who just doesn't know what he's doing.

Morons.

Anyway. He grins behind his hand. Louis! In his head, and he can feel him, like leaning against a phone in the kitchen, like holding hands. Not all like the ominous feeling of being too-closely observed when he was being dissected as a mortal.

'I swapped out the drives on my laptop already. They've got backups of a digital library in the basement, though, and I want those.'

"I think it's, uh. I think it's like... they've got it in the other room, with this agent."

Oh god, Daniel's actually pretty bad at being a secret agent.