No more clear blue-green, the strange density of a preternatural create has set in, occasionally shifting the way his maker's shift— ten times more obvious for him, starting from blueish, instead of Armand's deep amber. Daniel barely looked at himself in the mirror. Too surreal for now.

"Thanks." Wry. Blood seems like it's going to be a reoccurring theme, from now on. Speaking of: "Do you want a shirt?"

He's not sure how much transfer Louis got stuck with via sad hugs. He collects his change of clothes and goes to get dressed, still leaving the bathroom door partly open so they can talk.

"I have no idea what that word means," is almost a laugh. Better. "I feel sort of like I'm on acid. I'm distracted by the thought of— eating."

Eating.

"Am I going to go batshit crazy if I don't get something?"