If he lets himself, Daniel could easily fall into the trap of being starved for touch and affection. Louis makes it all so tempting, in person and through the shocking intimacy of telepathy. Daniel is of course plenty affectionate, but he does worry about being clingy and needy and letting his various insecurities dictate his behavior. Tough, though, when Louis makes him think of things like leaning against each other, wrapped up, swaying and laughing.
He really does love him. Almost embarrassing, how much.
'I do. Got your eye on a hotel somewhere that you like?'
Trying very hard not to immediately think of what Louis has so far and prioritize that over daydreaming about holding his hand. A proverbial gleam in his eye. Oooo, things he can dig into.
Lestat's people have arranged his tour through mostly cities, all the better for hunting. Maybe some of these cities aren't going to afford Louis the kind of luxury he is most accustomed to, but there will be options.
And there will be Daniel.
Let me make the arrangements.
Because Louis likes that; doing for the people he is most fond of. No clearer expression of his love than the way he seeks to provide, even if it's only a hotel room.
You think on which bad movie you're gonna take me to see.
Treading across things said in Dubai, half-forgotten, only recently recovered, feels dangerous. But Louis likes this memory, likes how it felt when Daniel was offering him that company when they still felt near to strangers.
'Alright,' is a warm laugh. Louis, precise in all things; Daniel has always noticed, but it's not until recently that he's really started to pay closer attention and consider it personally. The items of clothing Louis picks to wear when they spend time together, the places he chooses. Daniel's happy with anything, but it's clearly something that matters to Louis, so he wants to appreciate it.
And, maybe, try to reciprocate. Though he thinks he sucks at it. Maybe he'll try to find a classier post card. More stylish shoes?
Yes, Daniel would be happy with anything. Louis is aware.
It's not showing off, the quiet flex of wealth inherent in so much of what Louis does. He cares deeply for Daniel. He would like to give him the best of everything.
This is how it has always been for Louis. Affection telegraphed in the way luxury is laid out for them, the best of what they might enjoy caught and presented to them.
Admittedly, Columbus, Ohio, presents different options. Still, the details appear promptly in Daniel's inbox from Louis' personal email. A penthouse suite, staff instructed to expect Daniel's arrival. A coffin already arranged, discretion bought and paid for.
A brief message: Looking forward to seeing you.
Understatement. (Difficult to encompass the depth of feeling involved.)
There is every chance Daniel arrives first. The sweet-faced boy behind the counter is effusive in his welcome, and a handful of attendants appear in a rush to take his bags, offer to fetch anything he might want, is there anything the mini bar should be stocked with...?
He is advised: Mr. du Lac will be arriving within the hour. But here's a parcel waiting for Daniel, Mr. du Lac hopes it will keep Daniel entertained.
A white box on the coffee table contains a scuffed laptop, machine and its contents given over to Daniel's inspection. (The only sign of Rachida's presence, the diligence of her attention to every detail of Louis' intentions.) Louis' elegant handwriting marks out Daniel's name on a slip of paper, making the recipient of the offering clear.
The idea of love languages is bogus, and was invented by a freakish pastor in a desperate attempt to assure worthless right-wing men that their shitty habits are justified and loving— but let's pretend. What is Daniel's? He's wondered this about himself before. The conclusion he keeps coming to is he's just a shit guy who not even a self-help relationship book can diagnose, because all the answers he coughs up are 'nagging' and 'procurement of details', and like, who gives a fuck.
Louis is a provider, and he's attentive, and generous. Daniel doesn't think there's a single thing he could get him, especially not in Ohio.
He picks up a postcard. It has an unimpressive photo of the downtown Columbus 'skyline', and in big, loopy lettering, says, At Least It's Not Cleveland!, and in turn, it is at least not the other postcard Daniel considered, which was just a vintage photo of a naked woman. Lestat and every member of the touring band has autographed the back of it. Daniel sets it on the coffee table while he investigates the box, the box, what's in the box, oooo.
Is the power source fucked? Does it turn on, or is Daniel going to have to send it to a guy he knows? He's still digging through things when Louis arrives, and—?
The power source is functional, but the hinges are holding on by a thread, and the screen is cracked. But it powers on, and the screen is functional, if annoying, to peer at. Louis disabled the password, but the contents have been minimally combed through.
Louis' suitcase arrives before he does, delivered into the room by way of a fidgety young man Daniel may or may not recognize. His greeting is very polite, and very brief; he slips out of any attempts to engage in conversation, vanishing before the sound of a keycard activating the lock.
Revealing the reason for this hasty departure: Louis.
Soft gray sweatpants, immaculate sneakers, sunglasses hooked into the low v of his t-shirt, delicate fabric made more so by the heavy leather of his jacket. Expression warming as the door closes, as his gaze settles on Daniel.
"Hey," in greeting, crossing the room. "What have you made of it?"
As if they are only picking up conversation recently lapsed.
"These old guys are worse than me at technology," he says, not missing a beat on the conversation that's been on hold for a few days. "And I mean, me when I first started getting lost on shit like touch screens, I'm alright now. But they're real bad. These vamps believe the ads on Facebook and all of their passwords are 'BloodIsAwesome'."
Daniel looks up from the wreckage, and smiles. Louis, as usual, looks incredible— if Daniel didn't appreciate it so much he might take umbrage at his own vibe being so effortlessly upstaged, but it's impossible. Louis could wear a trash bag and look better than most people on Earth, alive or dead.
"Hey."
Warm. Just a little shy. Are they— does he get up, go to greet him, offer him a kiss? Are they those kind of people? He's not sure. It would be nice, but he doesn't want to be overbearing. So. He stands anyway, tries not to feel sheepish and dorky in his band tee and unremarkable shoes.
Daniel stands, and Louis isn't sure why it feels unexpected. Some thought of simply crossing the room, putting himself into Daniel's space, knocked just slightly out of alignment by Daniel rising from his seat.
A moment's hitch, pausing. Maybe picking up some of Daniel's anxiety, caching some minr flicker of the emotion as Louis continues on, meeting him. Grinning a little over Daniel's approval, at the computer laid open on the table.
"Hey," Louis echoes back. Fond. "You look good."
A grazing, skimming touch along the edge of Daniel's mind in tandem as he reaches for Daniel's hand, for the front of his shirt.
He steps around to meet him, inherent fearlessness mingling with that same shyness— it wasn't so long ago that he was telling himself he wasn't going to do anything like this, but here he is, because it's Louis. If only the genuineness of his feelings made him know, magically, how to take each step. He can't fall back on how he usually operates in relationships (is that what it is?), because those have all ended in disaster.
Also he's still—
Should he treat Louis like a woman? Probably not. But. How the fuck, etc.
More than any flustered nerves, though, is happiness at getting to see him in the flesh again. He squeezes Louis' hand when it touches his, and he covers Louis' other one on his chest. Green-blue eyes today, too dense, like pieces of a broken bottle washed in the sea for years and years instead of the clear water of his mortal ones, but at least not yellow-orange like his maker.
"Uhm— I dunno," and he has to laugh at himself, caught up in snooping. He glances at his watch (still ever-present, hasn't picked up a nicer one yet). "Little over half an hour, looks like."
Nonsensical, the way Louis thinks, We should never be apart.
There are many good reasons to give Daniel his space. For Louis to maintain his own. And yet.
"Sorry I kept you waiting on me," Louis says instead, and answers the question he is sure will follow: "Had an artist open up their studio for a showing."
Accommodating Louis' requirement to meet after sunrise. Gone are the days when it was him and Armand, and Armand could take a meeting at noon if it was offered.
Louis' thumb runs back and forth, knuckles flattening comfortably under Daniel's hand. Little touches, little contact. The feeling of a heartbeat under his palm.
"It's good to see you," offered instead of I missed you. Sentiments that rhyme, even if the former feels less urgent than the latter.
All well contained, but Louis is also uncertain of what now. What they make of this time. His disparate desires to simply take Daniel to bed and stay there maybe not welcome, nor productive. There is the computer, there are things Louis has dragged from the minds of dying vampire, but is it enough to hold Daniel's attention?
Still delighted by this fact, and so: waiting is no problem, especially when the payoff is Louis. Maintaining his smile, feeling sparks of too-young butterflies at the little touches. Way out of his league, but happy to be here for as long as he can. Tagging along with these talented, beautiful monsters, be it professionally with Lestat, personally with Louis.
Speaking (thinking) of, he could show Louis that card. Silly and a bit stupid, not ranking with artists that Louis is doing after.
But. Daniel looks like he's going to say something. Doesn't. Then tries again, finding courage—
"Can I kiss you? Are we the, you know, type to do that, 'Hey I missed you', and—?"
Because he's missed him. And it's good to see him.
Louis has no clear answers. He is trying to find his way, not to make Daniel uncomfortable in the process. Remembers Daniel saying, I'm straight, by the way, and recognizing it as something that deserved careful handling.
But Daniel asks him this, and the answer comes easy: "You can kiss me whenever you want."
No need for any particular occasion, no need to wait for an excuse.
He releases Daniel's hand to run fingers along his neck, thumb the line of his jaw, and tell him, "I missed you," and then invite, "Come kiss me."
He wants to enjoy himself, be comfortable, experience new things. More than that, he wants Louis to enjoy himself and be comfortable. Daniel knows that Louis is genuine, they've spent enough time fumbling in each other's heads and indulging in the warm, druglike intimacy of it. He believes he's happy. But he wants it to be fulfilling, too.
Daniel can't be Lestat. He's not the kind of guy who can sweep anyone off their feet. But maybe it can be fun. Maybe it can be worth it, for Louis, in this stage of his life. Daniel would like that. Being worth it, in whatever capacity he's capable of.
His pulse skips at that touch, that invitation. He squeezes Louis' hand against his chest. It really is good to be with him in person. Telepathy is great, but this is worlds better. He leans in, and kisses him.
Louis leans up into him, fingers sliding to the nape of his neck, thumb pressing down over the pulse beating in Daniel's throat. Reaches for his mind as they kiss, a skimming tease of contact tempered only by the awareness that Daniel might want to talk, just a little, before they fall into each other.
Teasing, and then alongside it runs a quieter, fretful impulse that is all questions, the muted impulse to ask, How has it been? How are you? What have you been doing? Are you happy, still?
They have been apart. Louis knows it's good for them both. And yet—
A slow parting, kissing Daniel again and then again after, soft and lingering, before saying, "Hey," again, into the narrow slip of space between them. "Missed you."
Like a reminder, a reassurance against the way Daniel shrugs off his own importance. Whatever they are, whatever they will be, he is always important. It will always be true.
Psychic fingers tangle, light and playful. Immediately tripping and falling into the abyss of coiled together minds is probably too quick, but Daniel will never shut him out. He's getting better at it rapidly, improving night by night, and though there's still an excitable, fledgling energy to it all, he's no longer accidentally almost bowling Louis over. Less of a mess inside, tidied up a bit, compartmentalized into work and and emotion and (things he's keeping sectioned away, thanks Armand) everything else.
"Missed you, too." Warm. Daniel offers another small kiss, chasing in return. Helpless against wanting him, even through the tangle of insecurities he may always be working through.
"I'm glad you're safe. And here. I know we can talk anytime, but I like seeing you."
Suppose they fall into each other. Suppose they tangle up in this hotel room, only emerging when the hunger is too great to bear?
Anything murmurs beneath the tangle of their minds, Louis sliding in among the neat order Daniel has been building within his own head. He learns so rapidly. It is different in some small way each time Louis touches his mind, sees how Daniel has grown since they last spoke.
"I'll stay stateside a while. Make it easier to show up when you got a couple off days."
And Louis has promised to attend concerts. Has been speaking to Lestat, text messages and phone calls. Similar reassurances. He is alive, he is safe, no one has harmed him.
Complicated.
Louis puts these things aside. Leans their foreheads together, slides his arm around his shoulders.
"You hungry? Or you wanna stay here and talk a while before we start thinking about those drinks you promised me?"
An invitation for Daniel to continue tinkering with the laptop, if he likes. Louis is willing to indulge, to enjoy the challenge of distracting him away from it in an hour or so.
Staying right here, wrapped up together, is alluring. Daniel could happily lose days and nights, knows it's the same for Louis— he's discovered he really has to keep himself on schedule, now that hes dead. He doesn't get tired the same way, and time passes almost the way it did when he was a teenager, flying by carelessly, brilliantly.
Louis being in the US is good. It makes him perk up, his eyes crinkling with the sincerity of his smile. Even if it's not completely for him, it's still good. Daniel likes the idea of him being closer, no matter the big picture reasons.
"I'm not hungry," he says, "but we could still go out."
Watching Daniel smile really diminishes the allure of heading out into the streets of downtown Columbus.
Armand had wanted him, yes. Louis knows this, has never felt any reason to doubt it. Armand had wanted him, but by the time they parted, the unseen fractures between them had swallowed up any pleasure they could possibly take in each other's company. How rare it would have been, to see Armand look at him with the kind of sincerity Daniel shows now, smiling at the possibility of sharing a continent with Louis.
They do need to be disentangling, but Louis leans up and kisses him again as if Daniel's expression is something that could be tasted.
"Buy me a drink," Louis entices, punctuates with a last light kiss brushed to Daniel's mouth. "I'd like that."
Echoes of the past, Daniel fumbling a crumpled bill onto the bar to buy Louis something cheap but strong. Louis letting him, even though he had a wallet thick with cash.
"You can tell me what you been doing since I last saw you."
Whatever Daniel hasn't already offered up, set into Louis' mind whenever they reached out to each other telepahically.
How is anyone not sincerely happy to see Louis? A mystery. Daniel was taken with him first thing in the bar, all those years ago. His heart had leapt (in panic, in curiosity) when he'd gotten the tapes, and he'd spiraled into aggressive fear and managed excitement seeing him again in Dubai. Happy to smile, now, happy to be happy, with him, and not in Dubai or anywhere else Louis has been getting into fights.
A conundrum, all that. He wants the information being collected, but he doesn't love the way Louis' been coping with things. At least for now, he's here with Daniel, and he can lean in for one last kiss and give his hand a squeeze, know that he's got him safe and sound for a few days.
"Hotel bar, or a walk?"
Daniel steps back, though slightly reluctantly; telegraphed in the way he keeps one hand linked with Louis'. He moves to snag the post card with his other, and holds it up—
Daniel keeps hold of his hand, and Louis tangles their fingers together securely. Maintaining contact, as long as feels comfortable. As long as what Louis feels coming off Daniel is content, rather than self-conscious.
The intention to walk is there in the casual tug towards the door, stymied as Daniel holds up the postcard.
And Louis smiles, even though behind the most immediate reaction is something more complicated.
"I bet they're giving you a run for your money," Louis says, reaching to take the card from Daniel's hand. Runs a thumb over the assortment of signatures on the opposite side, smile warming, shifting quieter in the wake of the initial grin.
"And I bet you got some stories. Maybe some you'll even tell me about."
Assuming the possibility of Daniel holding back. That some parts of him are private, and not meant for Louis, even if they involve Lestat.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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He really does love him. Almost embarrassing, how much.
'I do. Got your eye on a hotel somewhere that you like?'
Trying very hard not to immediately think of what Louis has so far and prioritize that over daydreaming about holding his hand. A proverbial gleam in his eye. Oooo, things he can dig into.
no subject
Lestat's people have arranged his tour through mostly cities, all the better for hunting. Maybe some of these cities aren't going to afford Louis the kind of luxury he is most accustomed to, but there will be options.
And there will be Daniel.
Let me make the arrangements.
Because Louis likes that; doing for the people he is most fond of. No clearer expression of his love than the way he seeks to provide, even if it's only a hotel room.
You think on which bad movie you're gonna take me to see.
Treading across things said in Dubai, half-forgotten, only recently recovered, feels dangerous. But Louis likes this memory, likes how it felt when Daniel was offering him that company when they still felt near to strangers.
no subject
And, maybe, try to reciprocate. Though he thinks he sucks at it. Maybe he'll try to find a classier post card. More stylish shoes?
He has no idea.
Smash-cut to:
Somewhere?
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It's not showing off, the quiet flex of wealth inherent in so much of what Louis does. He cares deeply for Daniel. He would like to give him the best of everything.
This is how it has always been for Louis. Affection telegraphed in the way luxury is laid out for them, the best of what they might enjoy caught and presented to them.
Admittedly, Columbus, Ohio, presents different options. Still, the details appear promptly in Daniel's inbox from Louis' personal email. A penthouse suite, staff instructed to expect Daniel's arrival. A coffin already arranged, discretion bought and paid for.
A brief message: Looking forward to seeing you.
Understatement. (Difficult to encompass the depth of feeling involved.)
There is every chance Daniel arrives first. The sweet-faced boy behind the counter is effusive in his welcome, and a handful of attendants appear in a rush to take his bags, offer to fetch anything he might want, is there anything the mini bar should be stocked with...?
He is advised: Mr. du Lac will be arriving within the hour. But here's a parcel waiting for Daniel, Mr. du Lac hopes it will keep Daniel entertained.
A white box on the coffee table contains a scuffed laptop, machine and its contents given over to Daniel's inspection. (The only sign of Rachida's presence, the diligence of her attention to every detail of Louis' intentions.) Louis' elegant handwriting marks out Daniel's name on a slip of paper, making the recipient of the offering clear.
no subject
Louis is a provider, and he's attentive, and generous. Daniel doesn't think there's a single thing he could get him, especially not in Ohio.
He picks up a postcard. It has an unimpressive photo of the downtown Columbus 'skyline', and in big, loopy lettering, says, At Least It's Not Cleveland!, and in turn, it is at least not the other postcard Daniel considered, which was just a vintage photo of a naked woman. Lestat and every member of the touring band has autographed the back of it. Daniel sets it on the coffee table while he investigates the box, the box, what's in the box, oooo.
Is the power source fucked? Does it turn on, or is Daniel going to have to send it to a guy he knows? He's still digging through things when Louis arrives, and—?
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Louis' suitcase arrives before he does, delivered into the room by way of a fidgety young man Daniel may or may not recognize. His greeting is very polite, and very brief; he slips out of any attempts to engage in conversation, vanishing before the sound of a keycard activating the lock.
Revealing the reason for this hasty departure: Louis.
Soft gray sweatpants, immaculate sneakers, sunglasses hooked into the low v of his t-shirt, delicate fabric made more so by the heavy leather of his jacket. Expression warming as the door closes, as his gaze settles on Daniel.
"Hey," in greeting, crossing the room. "What have you made of it?"
As if they are only picking up conversation recently lapsed.
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Daniel looks up from the wreckage, and smiles. Louis, as usual, looks incredible— if Daniel didn't appreciate it so much he might take umbrage at his own vibe being so effortlessly upstaged, but it's impossible. Louis could wear a trash bag and look better than most people on Earth, alive or dead.
"Hey."
Warm. Just a little shy. Are they— does he get up, go to greet him, offer him a kiss? Are they those kind of people? He's not sure. It would be nice, but he doesn't want to be overbearing. So. He stands anyway, tries not to feel sheepish and dorky in his band tee and unremarkable shoes.
"Nice hotel pick."
?? Smooth.
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A moment's hitch, pausing. Maybe picking up some of Daniel's anxiety, caching some minr flicker of the emotion as Louis continues on, meeting him. Grinning a little over Daniel's approval, at the computer laid open on the table.
"Hey," Louis echoes back. Fond. "You look good."
A grazing, skimming touch along the edge of Daniel's mind in tandem as he reaches for Daniel's hand, for the front of his shirt.
"You been waiting long?"
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Also he's still—
Should he treat Louis like a woman? Probably not. But. How the fuck, etc.
More than any flustered nerves, though, is happiness at getting to see him in the flesh again. He squeezes Louis' hand when it touches his, and he covers Louis' other one on his chest. Green-blue eyes today, too dense, like pieces of a broken bottle washed in the sea for years and years instead of the clear water of his mortal ones, but at least not yellow-orange like his maker.
"Uhm— I dunno," and he has to laugh at himself, caught up in snooping. He glances at his watch (still ever-present, hasn't picked up a nicer one yet). "Little over half an hour, looks like."
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There are many good reasons to give Daniel his space. For Louis to maintain his own. And yet.
"Sorry I kept you waiting on me," Louis says instead, and answers the question he is sure will follow: "Had an artist open up their studio for a showing."
Accommodating Louis' requirement to meet after sunrise. Gone are the days when it was him and Armand, and Armand could take a meeting at noon if it was offered.
Louis' thumb runs back and forth, knuckles flattening comfortably under Daniel's hand. Little touches, little contact. The feeling of a heartbeat under his palm.
"It's good to see you," offered instead of I missed you. Sentiments that rhyme, even if the former feels less urgent than the latter.
All well contained, but Louis is also uncertain of what now. What they make of this time. His disparate desires to simply take Daniel to bed and stay there maybe not welcome, nor productive. There is the computer, there are things Louis has dragged from the minds of dying vampire, but is it enough to hold Daniel's attention?
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Still delighted by this fact, and so: waiting is no problem, especially when the payoff is Louis. Maintaining his smile, feeling sparks of too-young butterflies at the little touches. Way out of his league, but happy to be here for as long as he can. Tagging along with these talented, beautiful monsters, be it professionally with Lestat, personally with Louis.
Speaking (thinking) of, he could show Louis that card. Silly and a bit stupid, not ranking with artists that Louis is doing after.
But. Daniel looks like he's going to say something. Doesn't. Then tries again, finding courage—
"Can I kiss you? Are we the, you know, type to do that, 'Hey I missed you', and—?"
Because he's missed him. And it's good to see him.
no subject
How does romance with Daniel work?
Louis has no clear answers. He is trying to find his way, not to make Daniel uncomfortable in the process. Remembers Daniel saying, I'm straight, by the way, and recognizing it as something that deserved careful handling.
But Daniel asks him this, and the answer comes easy: "You can kiss me whenever you want."
No need for any particular occasion, no need to wait for an excuse.
He releases Daniel's hand to run fingers along his neck, thumb the line of his jaw, and tell him, "I missed you," and then invite, "Come kiss me."
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Daniel can't be Lestat. He's not the kind of guy who can sweep anyone off their feet. But maybe it can be fun. Maybe it can be worth it, for Louis, in this stage of his life. Daniel would like that. Being worth it, in whatever capacity he's capable of.
His pulse skips at that touch, that invitation. He squeezes Louis' hand against his chest. It really is good to be with him in person. Telepathy is great, but this is worlds better. He leans in, and kisses him.
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Louis leans up into him, fingers sliding to the nape of his neck, thumb pressing down over the pulse beating in Daniel's throat. Reaches for his mind as they kiss, a skimming tease of contact tempered only by the awareness that Daniel might want to talk, just a little, before they fall into each other.
Teasing, and then alongside it runs a quieter, fretful impulse that is all questions, the muted impulse to ask, How has it been? How are you? What have you been doing? Are you happy, still?
They have been apart. Louis knows it's good for them both. And yet—
A slow parting, kissing Daniel again and then again after, soft and lingering, before saying, "Hey," again, into the narrow slip of space between them. "Missed you."
Like a reminder, a reassurance against the way Daniel shrugs off his own importance. Whatever they are, whatever they will be, he is always important. It will always be true.
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"Missed you, too." Warm. Daniel offers another small kiss, chasing in return. Helpless against wanting him, even through the tangle of insecurities he may always be working through.
"I'm glad you're safe. And here. I know we can talk anytime, but I like seeing you."
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Anything murmurs beneath the tangle of their minds, Louis sliding in among the neat order Daniel has been building within his own head. He learns so rapidly. It is different in some small way each time Louis touches his mind, sees how Daniel has grown since they last spoke.
"I'll stay stateside a while. Make it easier to show up when you got a couple off days."
And Louis has promised to attend concerts. Has been speaking to Lestat, text messages and phone calls. Similar reassurances. He is alive, he is safe, no one has harmed him.
Complicated.
Louis puts these things aside. Leans their foreheads together, slides his arm around his shoulders.
"You hungry? Or you wanna stay here and talk a while before we start thinking about those drinks you promised me?"
An invitation for Daniel to continue tinkering with the laptop, if he likes. Louis is willing to indulge, to enjoy the challenge of distracting him away from it in an hour or so.
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Louis being in the US is good. It makes him perk up, his eyes crinkling with the sincerity of his smile. Even if it's not completely for him, it's still good. Daniel likes the idea of him being closer, no matter the big picture reasons.
"I'm not hungry," he says, "but we could still go out."
Or else he really might vanish into work.
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Armand had wanted him, yes. Louis knows this, has never felt any reason to doubt it. Armand had wanted him, but by the time they parted, the unseen fractures between them had swallowed up any pleasure they could possibly take in each other's company. How rare it would have been, to see Armand look at him with the kind of sincerity Daniel shows now, smiling at the possibility of sharing a continent with Louis.
They do need to be disentangling, but Louis leans up and kisses him again as if Daniel's expression is something that could be tasted.
"Buy me a drink," Louis entices, punctuates with a last light kiss brushed to Daniel's mouth. "I'd like that."
Echoes of the past, Daniel fumbling a crumpled bill onto the bar to buy Louis something cheap but strong. Louis letting him, even though he had a wallet thick with cash.
"You can tell me what you been doing since I last saw you."
Whatever Daniel hasn't already offered up, set into Louis' mind whenever they reached out to each other telepahically.
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A conundrum, all that. He wants the information being collected, but he doesn't love the way Louis' been coping with things. At least for now, he's here with Daniel, and he can lean in for one last kiss and give his hand a squeeze, know that he's got him safe and sound for a few days.
"Hotel bar, or a walk?"
Daniel steps back, though slightly reluctantly; telegraphed in the way he keeps one hand linked with Louis'. He moves to snag the post card with his other, and holds it up—
"Chasing after these loons, mostly."
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The intention to walk is there in the casual tug towards the door, stymied as Daniel holds up the postcard.
And Louis smiles, even though behind the most immediate reaction is something more complicated.
"I bet they're giving you a run for your money," Louis says, reaching to take the card from Daniel's hand. Runs a thumb over the assortment of signatures on the opposite side, smile warming, shifting quieter in the wake of the initial grin.
"And I bet you got some stories. Maybe some you'll even tell me about."
Assuming the possibility of Daniel holding back. That some parts of him are private, and not meant for Louis, even if they involve Lestat.