Daniel holds him, trying to offer comfort as much as he's getting it back. A tremor shudders through him that feels different than the one he's been held captive by for years, and he thinks maybe he's going into shock. Stupid. Everything is spinning, but Louis is a still point to focus on.

"I couldn't have called any sooner anyway," he says with a huff of wry laughter. He'd tried to get away, but it was hopeless. Armand was a black hole. (Callback. It's brutal, to know everything Armand accused Daniel of in San Fransisco was projection. He can taste the ancient vampire's self-loathing, now.)

"Alright."

Alright.

"I'm still sorry. Fuck, Louis."