Daniel is horrified of his own reflection. Eyes he doesn't recognize, gore-covered. He does wash his face, and he stares too long at the blood that drains down the sink, leaving it stained faintly. He feels nauseous, but only for a second, and the hunger kicks in. A part of him he's unfamiliar with is aware of Louis and whoever else is out there — what Armand left — and it claws at his insides like a frantic wild animal.

Control slips away like blood into the drain. He holds a towel (patterned, delicately embroidered on the end), stands in the doorway back into the bedroom, and the world does something strange. It feels... euphoric, and terrible.

"I can feel myself losing it," he advises. To his own ears, he sounds far away. "Lost it already, I think. If I. Louis, if."

He can smell the blood. Taste it in the air. His eyes change again, green vanishing into yellow. Staring at himself from some spot high up, observing the interaction. Ears ringing.

"You'll make me stop, right?"