Still here in Istanbul, in an old church, one of the Byzantine ruins; Daniel is sitting in a windowless room with stone walls, waiting for something. He is exhausted, contemplating the edges of chronic pain, contemplating his exact location (not sure, and furthermore not sure if that's because of the exhaustion and chronic pain, or if his mind was fogged), contemplating Armand, and the contested validity of Stockholm syndrome, because he's actually starting to feel slightly bad for the guy, who is clearly profoundly mentally ill in a way he's kept camouflaged around being an ancient monster.

He hears his name, and it sounds like Louis.

Is he losing it?? Maybe. Daniel looks over his shoulder—?

No psychic powers, no ability to say anything back, but he's listening.