A slow, strange slide towards something. Daniel thinks of Heart of Darkness, not for any specific notes of the story itself, but the fact that it's cursed; adaptations are doomed to kill. He doesn't know where they're going. Upriver, upriver, that's all. There is a sense of stoppage in Venice, and Armand has turned into a darker and darker thing, and maybe the curse is going to kick in any second now.

I'm here, the faintest echo.

Is Daniel here? He supposes he is. He feels exhausted, irritable, and roiling with resigned pity and hostility towards his captor, who has poured out so much of himself. So much that may or may not be true. Difficult for Daniel to judge— it has become increasingly difficult for him to read Armand. He's never needed telepathy for anything like that, just intuition and attention to detail, but they've hit the point where Armand isn't sure if he's telling the truth, or not.

He thinks he's going to die. It's not a sentiment he allows Louis to eavesdrop on to scare him or rush him. It's just there, a strange feeling of certainty. His blood pressure is through the roof, his vision is constantly glassy. He is fucking tired in a way he's never experienced before. He doesn't want Louis to feel bad about it. Daniel was always going to die, he's old and he has a very annoying disease. It'll be okay.