Louis. It really is Louis. Daniel experiences a surge of relief and wonder, clutching onto that sensation like grasping his hand. Louis actually came for him? —And then that sinks in, Louis actually came for him, and a dark thread of worry slips through. Louis is finally free from this stupid shit, and he's risking an altercation for him?

Not worth it. A dying old man. He wanted a book, he wanted to get out alive. Neither of those look like they're going to happen. He'll take getting Louis out and staying out.

Scattered memories. Armand talking to him about faith, his struggle with it, resentment and revulsion and terror, the way he wishes he could saw it out of himself; Daniel struggles to look anywhere but the floor of the car they're in as they end up wherever they are right now. Regular asphalt parking lot, to a sidewalk, to ancient cobblestones. He doesn't glimpse the exterior. His attention is fixed on his hand in Armand's. Armand has been holding his hand quite a lot on this journey. If he tries to remove his hand, nothing will happen. The grip is gentle, the grip is fucking iron.

He doesn't know what Armand is looking for in here, if anything. Daniel thinks there must be tombs beneath it. A church that seems like it used to be a mosque, and used to be something else before that.