Louis moves so fast, but Daniel can see it. Not like when he would dart around, appearing in one place then the next like magic. His voice is richer, a different kind of reverberation finding Daniel's ears, almost painful. He is a thousand times more beautiful for the detail that Daniel can now see. He can smell him, a not-alive-not-dead thing, he can almost hear his heart.

"I'm sorry."

Sorrow. Shame. He didn't wait long enough, he couldn't find a way to talk Armand out of it. He'd asked for it at twenty, and he dismissed the mocking suggestion of it at seventy, but here he is. He should have just offed himself in a bathroom, or something. The worst of the transformation is over, but he feels on edge still, fucking crazy, a failure. He was already dying, already making end-of-life care plans, but a thousand little things suddenly overwhelm his head on the heels of the interview. Stupid. What does chewing gum taste like now? Did he look long enough at Venice in daylight?

It feels like a loss even though he was going to die anyway. Maybe it's just that Louis looks so fucking disappointed, and shattered. Daniel tries to steady him, but he's too unsteady, himself.