Daniel laughs and Louis' grin widens, sharper for the promise of flexing their power, of walking away together. (They should have done this before. Louis should have taken him, before.) Glint of fang more pronounced, hunger for the promise of threats, of even minor retribution.
"We can find the laptop," Louis is saying, and then—
Daniel touches his mind.
An electric shock. All these years, all these decades. Who else has touched his mind but Armand? (Armand wearing grooves, familiar pathways, deep fingerprints pressed into Louis' head.) Seventy-seven years since Claudia was killed, and there had been no one, no one, no one but Armand.
And now Daniel.
Louis' mind opens up, welcoming. The sense of fingers sliding over Daniel's, steadying the dial.
I can hear you, comes back to him, Louis' gaze holding Daniel's. It'll stop feeling so difficult after we've had some practice.
No sea legs yet. Slipping around, but not quite as frantic as one might expect from a new vampire— maybe it's the power borrowed from Armand, the only fledgling of one so old, or maybe it's just Daniel, possessed of the kind of razor-sharp intellect that holds through metric fucktons of drugs, stress, decades of high octane investigations, and one special occasions, torture.
His head is like a cluttered, lively office space. Always quick thinking, always direct and cutting, but it's supercharged now, and it takes him a moment to really focus on Louis. The other vampire will be able to catch impressions of the way he's been practicing, mentally eavesdropping on mortals, all the while pretending he can't quite figure it out. No guidance, no mentor, oh poor unfortunate Daniel Molloy, who just doesn't know what he's doing.
Morons.
Anyway. He grins behind his hand. Louis! In his head, and he can feel him, like leaning against a phone in the kitchen, like holding hands. Not all like the ominous feeling of being too-closely observed when he was being dissected as a mortal.
'I swapped out the drives on my laptop already. They've got backups of a digital library in the basement, though, and I want those.'
"I think it's, uh. I think it's like... they've got it in the other room, with this agent."
Oh god, Daniel's actually pretty bad at being a secret agent.
Across the table, Louis' face is still lit with a smile. Pleased. Leaning further into Daniel, taking in the familiar dimensions of his mind. Sharper this way, all things more clear when the connection goes both way.
A little tug. Come to me telegraphed in the welcoming pull of the link between them. Drawing Daniel in, close, to the vibrant warmth of his mind. More impression of a space, mingled with color and heightened sensation. Emotion. Intimate. Not an empty room, not the clean minimalism of Dubai, but a space colored more by the feeling of Louis and the burst of his thoughts than anything else.
This too, a space in flux. Like all things about Louis in this moment, it is shifting and changing. Evaluated and repurposed as Louis finds his way in the wake of all this change.
You want to rob them, carries such clear interest. The sensation of linked fingers tightening as Louis' smile widens back at him. Pleased at the idea. Alright.
"Anyone we know?" Louis is saying aloud, straightening in his seat, tapping fingers on the table.
We can go ourselves. Or we can make someone go for us.
Clumsy but curious, Daniel is an accidentally fumbling mental guest. His presence is a kind one, though, and if Louis thought maybe he really was hiding any real resentment, this should clear it up: nothing in him but affection and fierce care, despite that inescapable need to push forward for brutal, scathing truth. (Maybe Armand was right. It's his drug. He can't stop.)
Not entirely an open book, he's already become adept at locking away certain things (iron vault doors, no access, memories of transforming, opinions about his maker) but welcoming. Happy to telepathically hold hands, even if he's not sure what that is besides a stabilizing gesture. Daniel rubs his nose again. Trying very hard not to match words aloud with words thought.
'They owe us both. It's just collecting the tab.'
Oh-so-innocent.
"No, your butler keeps his distance."
And if there's anyone else (the man with the silver hair, glasses?), it's not of note. Handlers in formalwear, old-fashioned, things Daniel has noticed like: they aren't tech-illiterate by any means, but the organization has been around for so long that they're constantly in a state of upgrading to every new modern era, and like any organization, it takes time. He's made the most of his middling sleight of hand, and so far, no one's noticed.
Even at this first brush of connection, Louis can sense the skill here. (A reminder of Claudia, how quick she had been to develop her skill without anyone but Louis to practice upon.) Daniel has tidied, swept away what he clearly does not wish Louis to see.
Some satisfaction in this too. Daniel will be a good vampire. He will make much of the Gift.
And he will be alive.
Abruptly, impulsively, Louis reaches across the table to Daniel, taking up his hand. A mirroring sensation, mind to mind, hands linked.
"I could ask regardless," Louis says, followed by He came to find me. I'm not sure if is at their direction or if he was acting on his own.
If it was a play to get Louis here, what was the purpose? Louis isn't certain of the immediate benefit. He isn't certain of what would motivate Rashid to take the risk. Unknown variables.
Good is relative, probably. He'll be his own. He'd have made a better vampire twenty years ago (at a minimum), but he'll do, like this. The horror of realizing the body he'd decided was fine for the last downhill slide is what he will be trapped in forever is something he's confronted, but can't let himself get lost in.
He looks at Louis with his uncanny bright eyes, amber-orange burning through lenses that attempt to keep them looking normal. The physical hand holding is unexpected, but he likens it to Louis seeing him as a sort of child, in this unlife. Anchoring. He supposes it makes sense.
"You could. They might try to recruit you, though."
Rashid is a puzzle. Louis can glimpse film-reel snippets as Daniel thinks of it, memories of the sushi restaurant in the lobby of the tower in Dubai, Rashid and the man Louis glimpsed earlier.
'Lucky for me, I guess, you were never too micro manage-y about your employees' thoughts.'
Like, they really got away with quite a bit, during the interview. Neither Louis nor Armand (? maybe?) seemed aware of the spy bullshit playing out. Daniel hasn't harassed Rashid much, but then, he hasn't seen Rashid much; he split as quick as possible after chucking the paper on the table. Not one of his handlers. Maybe not a real agent, and just an asset.
Was Armand? Maybe, maybe not. Louis hadn't asked, but wonders now if Armand had been keeping track. If the possibility of a human in their employ creating such a problem had struck him as impossible.
"They can make me an offer," sounds genuinely amused. Smiles, all shark teeth. Unforgiving. Louis holds a grudge. "I'd like to hear it."
They couldn't stop us from taking it.
Practical.
However, it begs the question: Do you want to be subtle? Keep them from knowing what you have?
Are any of these guys going to survive, if they piss Louis off without his shitty ancient insect ex to sedate him? Is this a good idea? ... Does Daniel care? Maybe a little. Rashid is probably safe, if he stuck around downstairs, and Raglan is gone.
So.
It'll be fine. Daniel squeezes Louis' hand, then lets go.
'I guess that would be ideal,' he communicates as he gets up and goes to grab a messenger bag, already half-packed with leftover vital pieces. Might as well move now. Do it live and all that. 'But I'm not standing on ceremony if we have to cause a problem.'
Stays close, lingering around the edges of Daniel's mind. Intimate contact, even as Louis keeps polite distance from the patter of Daniel's thoughts.
They took you, and they invited me. Borrowed trouble all on their own.
Maybe an oversimplification. Louis is comfortable being uncharitable.
When he opens the door, it startles away an unprepared eavesdropper. He takes a few steps backward, away, and Louis' expression shifts towards amusement.
"We're going," Louis tells him. "You can go on and hail us a cab."
Casual flex of monied expectations.
Louis looks back to Daniel. Queries, Elevator? in the same moment as he asks, "Do you have everything?"
It's a curious thing, the closeness of Louis' mind. Daniel is torn between shivering away from it, seventy years worth of privacy instincts leaning on him, and pressing closer to investigate. No doubt Louis can sense his dilemma, but they don't have time to dump into lessons that Daniel is past the point of circling back to.
A moment laugh, though, at the idea of the Talamasca taking him. Doesn't elaborate.
(Where was he supposed to go? Louis had abandoned him, symbolically destroyed what they'd worked on, labored over, suffered over! for those weeks, and Daniel was alone. It was call in his current stuffy 'hosts' or burn. He wanted a book and to live, and finally, he wasn't just making manipulative sad eyes about it.)
"Let's go."
An answer to both.
He thinks he's figured out that surveillance can't quite see him in the alcove just behind the door, and so after opening it, he pauses there for a while. Considering. Assuming, hoping, people are moving to intercept one way, while they're planning on heading elsewhere. To the elevator, then, and Daniel presses the button, waits, enters, presses another button, and then considers how to get out of the box while it's moving.
A sense of laughter, connected to something. Louis could unravel it further, maybe. He is older. Not as gifted in this arena as Armand, or even Lestat, but not incapable. He has some talent.
But no.
The laughter drifts between them, Louis' flicker of curiosity following in its wake. Set aside.
In the moment, following Daniel's lead. Trails him into the elevator, abandoning the pretense of speaking aloud to focus on their mental conversation.
Noises. Humming from the elevator, humming from the lights, and all else. Daniel's not great at it, and is certainly happy to let Louis take over. He'll watch him, of course, and continue to listen and parse through what's what— he could probably do the sledgehammer method and just yank out the whole overhead bundle of wires, but he doesn't actually want to get the carriage car stuck.
His phone beeps. Daniel checks it, a neutral inquiry from the agent in charge of this facility, asking him how his meeting is going. Very funny. He pretends not to know he's definitely being observed, and replies saying it's fine.
Yeah, think so. is throwaway reassurance on the way to, They been curious. They like to watch and make their little observations.
Maybe curious enough to let Daniel rob them, just to see how he'd do it.
Louis has spent decades erasing himself from public consciousness. The scrutiny rankles. Hard to tell if that's fully Louis' reaction or if Armand taught it to him.
Something to think about later. Louis reaches up with his mind, following the buzz and hum of machinery, of electricity, traces the subtle third frequency to its source and twists.
Somewhere, in some little room, a screen goes static.
You can blame it all on me if you like. I'm aware of what their files say about me.
Daniel's own curiosity is now doubt a tangible thing, watching Louis with bright psychic eyes, observing his ability to navigate the different paths on each technical hookup. Learning, always, consuming the world around him, sorting it into the chaotic library in his head.
Cool.
An impression of a laugh—
'Yeah, they've tried to talk me into being afraid of you. They've got an impressive collection of long distance paparazzi pictures of all of us from over the years, and don't seem to realize that's the thing that would freak me out, if any of it would.'
Just not scared of Louis. Maybe he should be, but he doesn't have it in him, not really. And especially not anymore. Even if Louis does decide to be violent with him — not out of the question, it's happened before, more than once — he'll be fine. Nothing hurts, anymore. Daniel can do stand in front of an oncoming train if he wants to, just to watch his bones come back together.
Sleight of hand time: letting the car stop at the ground floor as they weasel out the maintenance hatch, then go down the ladder to the actual basement level they're looking for. Maybe it's weird watching Daniel be able to do it, moving like a young person, looking like he does.
Joyous, seeing Daniel move easily, without pain. And then deep sorrow, deep guilt, because Louis cannot look at him without seeing how Daniel was gifted this relief.
A deep ache too, something that feels like loss. Louis had wanted to give him these things. Wanted to offer. It had been one error, and now they are here.
Complicated.
But Louis follows him out. Follows him down.
Another door, another spate of mortals. Cheerily arguing. The disconnected camera has raised no alarms this far down, apparently.
What would you like to do with them?
Just curiosity. Louis has his own ideas, but makes space for Daniel's. What are Daniel's intentions here? There are two. Perhaps they drink. Perhaps they don't.
Robbing them is fine, but he's not interested in going on a killing spree. They're going to publish the book, after all. A car crash on the bridge will do just fine where burning it down would be a bit much.
And it's not like he's starving. No farm, no cute fuzzy animals, but he's made do. A new vampire still, Daniel's hunger is ever-present, but he's topped off enough not to be held hostage by it. The dweebs on the other side of the door don't make him feel any particular sort of way, and besides, even if he would drain them and feel nothing about it should the only way out end up being through, he remembers Louis' hangups. Ones he doesn't share.
Should he?
Life's weird.
"Hey, fellas," Daniel says, upbeat, as he opens the door. His greeting is underscored by the crunch of the handle and lock shattering, and sudden frantic shuffling.
A sign, perhaps, of how little threat Louis feels the Talamasca to be. Humans, knowledgeable and nosy, but all the same, human. What is the worst that can truly happen? Their attempt at subterfuge is blown, and they leave anyway with what Daniel wishes to take?
Besides, he likes watching Daniel approach the door this way. Likes the bluntness of his entrance, likes the panic he inspires.
The door swings open and Louis smiles into the room, all shark-sharp charm and gleaming teeth.
"Do you know who we are?"
They must. And maybe no one is afraid of Daniel just yet, but Louis has a decades-long dossier and it is uniformly unflattering. Why not trade on this, just a little?
The Talamasca is going to know that Daniel robbed them, so might as well just say hello, I'm robbing you. Makes things easier, right? Right. And it's funnier, breezing in, seeing the reaction, and mapping it in their heads. Daniel can see, hear, read, so much clearer, all the anti-vampire measures they think they have, now that they're panicking and thinking them all so loud and up front.
And none of that shit's going to work.
"Mr Molloy," starts one, and there's some stammering, even as a young woman moves to grab a high powered UV flashlight. Daniel takes it from her, feeling like he's barely moved, but she gasps. He knows already all it'll do is itch, because it's not the fucking light quality, it's life, but the principle of the thing remains.
Rude.
He advises, "Just chill out," and moves past them to the workstation computer.
Distracted by the immediacy with which his partner is disarmed, the young man beside her is startled by Louis' fingers closing around his elbow.
"Don't," he advises. Don't pull out another little light. Don't push any buttons. Just don't.
A glint of fang is his mouth is convincing. The man is steered backwards. His partner is watching, her hands opening and closing into fists. Deciding how foolish she wants to be.
Into Daniel's head, Louis asks, How much time do you need?
'Not too long.' Clicking through things. One would think that outdated systems, typical of professional organizations, would be easier to navigate given his origin before the digital age, but to someone who's been using professional Apple products for years, it's a little counter intuitive. 'Probably.'
Clickclickclick. The young man is terrified of Louis in particular — Louis du Lac, hunter of young men, predator, the stuff of nightmares, as beautiful as he is deadly, he keeps thinking of the autopsy photographs, hundreds of them, every one of Louis' victims they could find. One or two over the years they've dissuaded by staging a car accident or a pulling a fire alarm, but this creature, the vampire holding his elbow, is in possession of a violent appetite that haunts the dreams of more than one agent.
So they all say. So someone said to Daniel, in a restaurant in Dubai.
He moves away from the console, looking for the isolate drive he's after. Ignoring her frozen co-worker, the young woman moves for a panel beneath the desk—
Edited (i forgot what he was going to be torn over so he's no longer torn) 2025-05-18 04:52 (UTC)
Louis has a finger pressed down at the edge of their minds, monitoring the flow of thought. Tasting the quality of their fear. Louis turns it over in his mind, this patter of memory of all his worst acts.
What Louis will make of it is anyone's guess. In the moment, Daniel is at work and Louis has this young man by the arm, sweeps his eyes around the room and—
Bad luck, for this intrepid young woman.
Louis sees her.
He moves so, so quickly. One moment he is scraping a thumbnail down the inside of this young man's elbow, the next he is hauling the young woman up off her feet. It's a graceful movement, terrifyingly so. The promise of violence is contained in it.
"He said, let's chill," Louis reminds her, lightly scolding tone. Confides, casually, "He's still very human. He wants to keep you alive."
The implication: Louis doesn't.
How true it is doesn't matter. It only matters that Louis says it aloud, and scares her enough that she believes him.
Daniel's attention flicks back, his amber-yellow eyes glinting for a split second past the tinted glass of his lenses. Wonders— is that true? Is it all for show, or does Louis really not care anymore? Or maybe it isn't a lack of care, but a lack of direction. If he were in the other man's position, he'd be tying himself in knots over the difference between his own desires and shit potentially constructed by someone else. By someone else, who constructed something in Daniel.
Does Armand know they're together? Does he still look through Louis' head like a psychic surveillance camera? Or has he fucked off entirely without so much as a thought for what's behind him?
Doesn't matter, does it.
"If you're that scared of vampires," he says for the benefit of these humans (so distant from him, and they would be even if he were still mortal, because they're young people working at a secret agency, what the fuck is that), "this is probably the wrong job."
The drive is extracted. Daniel pries it loose with pointed fingernails, and has to settle with hoping this is what he's after. He's not a fucking hacker.
Things that stick: the litany of thoughts unspooling in this young man's mind.
The worst of Louis' habits, unfettered. Twenty years ago, give or take, but still his. Still observed and collected and scrutinized. This boy is terrified, but this boy is not the only one who has seen them. This boy is not the only one who knows Louis' name.
Rashid was in his home for such a long time. They had thought, a controlled sort of breach. But then Louis had stopped listening and Armand had been meant to control the flow.
Louis is looking into this girl's face. She is thinking of autopsy photos. She is thinking something accusatory. She's embarrassed. Louis could tell her there's no reason to be. It's very human, to wish to live a few hours longer. No one needs to die in this vault.
"Have your souvenirs?" Louis enquires, gaze coming around to watch Daniel put the drive into his pocket.
Considers their two young hosts. The man hasn't moved. The woman has backed away.
It's in her mind. She'll push that button the moment their backs are turned. Louis offers this to Daniel, a brief little touch between their minds to convey the impression, like passing a note he found in her pocket.
Photos of Louis, recordings of Louis, always Louis, because Armand has curated himself so carefully. A horrible spider hidden away in his burrow, letting everyone else struggle in the webs left out. Daniel, too, features in the thoughts of these scared mortals; strange and offputting now that he's old, mismatched in their heads as until recently, his file was a footnote, and attached to it was a photo of him bruised and bloody and greyscale.
Will Molloy kill them? Agent James seems to think he's both safe and very sharp, and they're not one hundred percent sure what that means (he thinks it means Molloy is just lucky, she thinks it means he's fucking somebody, which she also thinks is gross), and—
"Think they can both fit in the storage closet?"
They're gonna, even if they can't.
It's cramped and full of replacement power sources, and both mortals get shoved in there, squashed together, socks shoved in their mouths, heavy server shelf shoved over the door and its smashed handle. There. No button. Daniel looks at Louis when it's taken care of. Proverbial dusting of hands.
Louis, who is so volatile. Dangerous. Lacking control, thankfully tended to for years by Armand. This is perhaps what has been noted in his file, an explanation for the dwindling incidents, the tapering and then end of autopsy photos and recordings. Maybe there is some other notation, marking the dissolution of their companionship. Maybe someone is waiting again for the incidents to begin.
Touching the minds of these young agents, Louis is aware that they are wondering if they will mark the start of a new spree.
But no, not today.
They are trapped into a closet, where they will surely be found. Door closed. Unable to push the button, alert anyone to what Daniel and Louis have done.
Good enough, for now.
Louis adjusts his jacket, brushes some nonexistent lint from the fabric. Yes, they're pushing their luck if they linger.
Back the way we came? Louis questions. Some real enjoyment in the idea of walking out the front door, if they can. We might meet some opposition.
No alarms raised, but the Talamasca hasn't survived this long without some healthy suspicion.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
"We can find the laptop," Louis is saying, and then—
Daniel touches his mind.
An electric shock. All these years, all these decades. Who else has touched his mind but Armand? (Armand wearing grooves, familiar pathways, deep fingerprints pressed into Louis' head.) Seventy-seven years since Claudia was killed, and there had been no one, no one, no one but Armand.
And now Daniel.
Louis' mind opens up, welcoming. The sense of fingers sliding over Daniel's, steadying the dial.
I can hear you, comes back to him, Louis' gaze holding Daniel's. It'll stop feeling so difficult after we've had some practice.
no subject
His head is like a cluttered, lively office space. Always quick thinking, always direct and cutting, but it's supercharged now, and it takes him a moment to really focus on Louis. The other vampire will be able to catch impressions of the way he's been practicing, mentally eavesdropping on mortals, all the while pretending he can't quite figure it out. No guidance, no mentor, oh poor unfortunate Daniel Molloy, who just doesn't know what he's doing.
Morons.
Anyway. He grins behind his hand. Louis! In his head, and he can feel him, like leaning against a phone in the kitchen, like holding hands. Not all like the ominous feeling of being too-closely observed when he was being dissected as a mortal.
'I swapped out the drives on my laptop already. They've got backups of a digital library in the basement, though, and I want those.'
"I think it's, uh. I think it's like... they've got it in the other room, with this agent."
Oh god, Daniel's actually pretty bad at being a secret agent.
no subject
A little tug. Come to me telegraphed in the welcoming pull of the link between them. Drawing Daniel in, close, to the vibrant warmth of his mind. More impression of a space, mingled with color and heightened sensation. Emotion. Intimate. Not an empty room, not the clean minimalism of Dubai, but a space colored more by the feeling of Louis and the burst of his thoughts than anything else.
This too, a space in flux. Like all things about Louis in this moment, it is shifting and changing. Evaluated and repurposed as Louis finds his way in the wake of all this change.
You want to rob them, carries such clear interest. The sensation of linked fingers tightening as Louis' smile widens back at him. Pleased at the idea. Alright.
"Anyone we know?" Louis is saying aloud, straightening in his seat, tapping fingers on the table.
We can go ourselves. Or we can make someone go for us.
Bribery, or otherwise.
no subject
Not entirely an open book, he's already become adept at locking away certain things (iron vault doors, no access, memories of transforming, opinions about his maker) but welcoming. Happy to telepathically hold hands, even if he's not sure what that is besides a stabilizing gesture. Daniel rubs his nose again. Trying very hard not to match words aloud with words thought.
'They owe us both. It's just collecting the tab.'
Oh-so-innocent.
"No, your butler keeps his distance."
And if there's anyone else (the man with the silver hair, glasses?), it's not of note. Handlers in formalwear, old-fashioned, things Daniel has noticed like: they aren't tech-illiterate by any means, but the organization has been around for so long that they're constantly in a state of upgrading to every new modern era, and like any organization, it takes time. He's made the most of his middling sleight of hand, and so far, no one's noticed.
no subject
Some satisfaction in this too. Daniel will be a good vampire. He will make much of the Gift.
And he will be alive.
Abruptly, impulsively, Louis reaches across the table to Daniel, taking up his hand. A mirroring sensation, mind to mind, hands linked.
"I could ask regardless," Louis says, followed by He came to find me. I'm not sure if is at their direction or if he was acting on his own.
If it was a play to get Louis here, what was the purpose? Louis isn't certain of the immediate benefit. He isn't certain of what would motivate Rashid to take the risk. Unknown variables.
no subject
He looks at Louis with his uncanny bright eyes, amber-orange burning through lenses that attempt to keep them looking normal. The physical hand holding is unexpected, but he likens it to Louis seeing him as a sort of child, in this unlife. Anchoring. He supposes it makes sense.
"You could. They might try to recruit you, though."
Rashid is a puzzle. Louis can glimpse film-reel snippets as Daniel thinks of it, memories of the sushi restaurant in the lobby of the tower in Dubai, Rashid and the man Louis glimpsed earlier.
'Lucky for me, I guess, you were never too micro manage-y about your employees' thoughts.'
Like, they really got away with quite a bit, during the interview. Neither Louis nor Armand (? maybe?) seemed aware of the spy bullshit playing out. Daniel hasn't harassed Rashid much, but then, he hasn't seen Rashid much; he split as quick as possible after chucking the paper on the table. Not one of his handlers. Maybe not a real agent, and just an asset.
no subject
Was Armand? Maybe, maybe not. Louis hadn't asked, but wonders now if Armand had been keeping track. If the possibility of a human in their employ creating such a problem had struck him as impossible.
"They can make me an offer," sounds genuinely amused. Smiles, all shark teeth. Unforgiving. Louis holds a grudge. "I'd like to hear it."
They couldn't stop us from taking it.
Practical.
However, it begs the question: Do you want to be subtle? Keep them from knowing what you have?
no subject
Are any of these guys going to survive, if they piss Louis off without his shitty ancient insect ex to sedate him? Is this a good idea? ... Does Daniel care? Maybe a little. Rashid is probably safe, if he stuck around downstairs, and Raglan is gone.
So.
It'll be fine. Daniel squeezes Louis' hand, then lets go.
'I guess that would be ideal,' he communicates as he gets up and goes to grab a messenger bag, already half-packed with leftover vital pieces. Might as well move now. Do it live and all that. 'But I'm not standing on ceremony if we have to cause a problem.'
Shall they?
no subject
Stays close, lingering around the edges of Daniel's mind. Intimate contact, even as Louis keeps polite distance from the patter of Daniel's thoughts.
They took you, and they invited me. Borrowed trouble all on their own.
Maybe an oversimplification. Louis is comfortable being uncharitable.
When he opens the door, it startles away an unprepared eavesdropper. He takes a few steps backward, away, and Louis' expression shifts towards amusement.
"We're going," Louis tells him. "You can go on and hail us a cab."
Casual flex of monied expectations.
Louis looks back to Daniel. Queries, Elevator? in the same moment as he asks, "Do you have everything?"
no subject
A moment laugh, though, at the idea of the Talamasca taking him. Doesn't elaborate.
(Where was he supposed to go? Louis had abandoned him, symbolically destroyed what they'd worked on, labored over, suffered over! for those weeks, and Daniel was alone. It was call in his current stuffy 'hosts' or burn. He wanted a book and to live, and finally, he wasn't just making manipulative sad eyes about it.)
"Let's go."
An answer to both.
He thinks he's figured out that surveillance can't quite see him in the alcove just behind the door, and so after opening it, he pauses there for a while. Considering. Assuming, hoping, people are moving to intercept one way, while they're planning on heading elsewhere. To the elevator, then, and Daniel presses the button, waits, enters, presses another button, and then considers how to get out of the box while it's moving.
no subject
But no.
The laughter drifts between them, Louis' flicker of curiosity following in its wake. Set aside.
In the moment, following Daniel's lead. Trails him into the elevator, abandoning the pretense of speaking aloud to focus on their mental conversation.
Shall we disable the camera?
Just a thought.
no subject
Noises. Humming from the elevator, humming from the lights, and all else. Daniel's not great at it, and is certainly happy to let Louis take over. He'll watch him, of course, and continue to listen and parse through what's what— he could probably do the sledgehammer method and just yank out the whole overhead bundle of wires, but he doesn't actually want to get the carriage car stuck.
His phone beeps. Daniel checks it, a neutral inquiry from the agent in charge of this facility, asking him how his meeting is going. Very funny. He pretends not to know he's definitely being observed, and replies saying it's fine.
'They're definitely curious.'
no subject
Maybe curious enough to let Daniel rob them, just to see how he'd do it.
Louis has spent decades erasing himself from public consciousness. The scrutiny rankles. Hard to tell if that's fully Louis' reaction or if Armand taught it to him.
Something to think about later. Louis reaches up with his mind, following the buzz and hum of machinery, of electricity, traces the subtle third frequency to its source and twists.
Somewhere, in some little room, a screen goes static.
You can blame it all on me if you like. I'm aware of what their files say about me.
Volatile. Dangerous.
no subject
Cool.
An impression of a laugh—
'Yeah, they've tried to talk me into being afraid of you. They've got an impressive collection of long distance paparazzi pictures of all of us from over the years, and don't seem to realize that's the thing that would freak me out, if any of it would.'
Just not scared of Louis. Maybe he should be, but he doesn't have it in him, not really. And especially not anymore. Even if Louis does decide to be violent with him — not out of the question, it's happened before, more than once — he'll be fine. Nothing hurts, anymore. Daniel can do stand in front of an oncoming train if he wants to, just to watch his bones come back together.
Sleight of hand time: letting the car stop at the ground floor as they weasel out the maintenance hatch, then go down the ladder to the actual basement level they're looking for. Maybe it's weird watching Daniel be able to do it, moving like a young person, looking like he does.
no subject
Joyous, seeing Daniel move easily, without pain. And then deep sorrow, deep guilt, because Louis cannot look at him without seeing how Daniel was gifted this relief.
A deep ache too, something that feels like loss. Louis had wanted to give him these things. Wanted to offer. It had been one error, and now they are here.
Complicated.
But Louis follows him out. Follows him down.
Another door, another spate of mortals. Cheerily arguing. The disconnected camera has raised no alarms this far down, apparently.
What would you like to do with them?
Just curiosity. Louis has his own ideas, but makes space for Daniel's. What are Daniel's intentions here? There are two. Perhaps they drink. Perhaps they don't.
no subject
Robbing them is fine, but he's not interested in going on a killing spree. They're going to publish the book, after all. A car crash on the bridge will do just fine where burning it down would be a bit much.
And it's not like he's starving. No farm, no cute fuzzy animals, but he's made do. A new vampire still, Daniel's hunger is ever-present, but he's topped off enough not to be held hostage by it. The dweebs on the other side of the door don't make him feel any particular sort of way, and besides, even if he would drain them and feel nothing about it should the only way out end up being through, he remembers Louis' hangups. Ones he doesn't share.
Should he?
Life's weird.
"Hey, fellas," Daniel says, upbeat, as he opens the door. His greeting is underscored by the crunch of the handle and lock shattering, and sudden frantic shuffling.
no subject
A sign, perhaps, of how little threat Louis feels the Talamasca to be. Humans, knowledgeable and nosy, but all the same, human. What is the worst that can truly happen? Their attempt at subterfuge is blown, and they leave anyway with what Daniel wishes to take?
Besides, he likes watching Daniel approach the door this way. Likes the bluntness of his entrance, likes the panic he inspires.
The door swings open and Louis smiles into the room, all shark-sharp charm and gleaming teeth.
"Do you know who we are?"
They must. And maybe no one is afraid of Daniel just yet, but Louis has a decades-long dossier and it is uniformly unflattering. Why not trade on this, just a little?
no subject
And none of that shit's going to work.
"Mr Molloy," starts one, and there's some stammering, even as a young woman moves to grab a high powered UV flashlight. Daniel takes it from her, feeling like he's barely moved, but she gasps. He knows already all it'll do is itch, because it's not the fucking light quality, it's life, but the principle of the thing remains.
Rude.
He advises, "Just chill out," and moves past them to the workstation computer.
no subject
"Don't," he advises. Don't pull out another little light. Don't push any buttons. Just don't.
A glint of fang is his mouth is convincing. The man is steered backwards. His partner is watching, her hands opening and closing into fists. Deciding how foolish she wants to be.
Into Daniel's head, Louis asks, How much time do you need?
no subject
Clickclickclick. The young man is terrified of Louis in particular — Louis du Lac, hunter of young men, predator, the stuff of nightmares, as beautiful as he is deadly, he keeps thinking of the autopsy photographs, hundreds of them, every one of Louis' victims they could find. One or two over the years they've dissuaded by staging a car accident or a pulling a fire alarm, but this creature, the vampire holding his elbow, is in possession of a violent appetite that haunts the dreams of more than one agent.
So they all say. So someone said to Daniel, in a restaurant in Dubai.
He moves away from the console, looking for the isolate drive he's after. Ignoring her frozen co-worker, the young woman moves for a panel beneath the desk—
no subject
Louis has a finger pressed down at the edge of their minds, monitoring the flow of thought. Tasting the quality of their fear. Louis turns it over in his mind, this patter of memory of all his worst acts.
What Louis will make of it is anyone's guess. In the moment, Daniel is at work and Louis has this young man by the arm, sweeps his eyes around the room and—
Bad luck, for this intrepid young woman.
Louis sees her.
He moves so, so quickly. One moment he is scraping a thumbnail down the inside of this young man's elbow, the next he is hauling the young woman up off her feet. It's a graceful movement, terrifyingly so. The promise of violence is contained in it.
"He said, let's chill," Louis reminds her, lightly scolding tone. Confides, casually, "He's still very human. He wants to keep you alive."
The implication: Louis doesn't.
How true it is doesn't matter. It only matters that Louis says it aloud, and scares her enough that she believes him.
no subject
Does Armand know they're together? Does he still look through Louis' head like a psychic surveillance camera? Or has he fucked off entirely without so much as a thought for what's behind him?
Doesn't matter, does it.
"If you're that scared of vampires," he says for the benefit of these humans (so distant from him, and they would be even if he were still mortal, because they're young people working at a secret agency, what the fuck is that), "this is probably the wrong job."
The drive is extracted. Daniel pries it loose with pointed fingernails, and has to settle with hoping this is what he's after. He's not a fucking hacker.
no subject
The worst of Louis' habits, unfettered. Twenty years ago, give or take, but still his. Still observed and collected and scrutinized. This boy is terrified, but this boy is not the only one who has seen them. This boy is not the only one who knows Louis' name.
Rashid was in his home for such a long time. They had thought, a controlled sort of breach. But then Louis had stopped listening and Armand had been meant to control the flow.
Louis is looking into this girl's face. She is thinking of autopsy photos. She is thinking something accusatory. She's embarrassed. Louis could tell her there's no reason to be. It's very human, to wish to live a few hours longer. No one needs to die in this vault.
"Have your souvenirs?" Louis enquires, gaze coming around to watch Daniel put the drive into his pocket.
Considers their two young hosts. The man hasn't moved. The woman has backed away.
It's in her mind. She'll push that button the moment their backs are turned. Louis offers this to Daniel, a brief little touch between their minds to convey the impression, like passing a note he found in her pocket.
no subject
Will Molloy kill them? Agent James seems to think he's both safe and very sharp, and they're not one hundred percent sure what that means (he thinks it means Molloy is just lucky, she thinks it means he's fucking somebody, which she also thinks is gross), and—
"Think they can both fit in the storage closet?"
They're gonna, even if they can't.
It's cramped and full of replacement power sources, and both mortals get shoved in there, squashed together, socks shoved in their mouths, heavy server shelf shoved over the door and its smashed handle. There. No button. Daniel looks at Louis when it's taken care of. Proverbial dusting of hands.
'I think we're nearing our time limit.'
no subject
Touching the minds of these young agents, Louis is aware that they are wondering if they will mark the start of a new spree.
But no, not today.
They are trapped into a closet, where they will surely be found. Door closed. Unable to push the button, alert anyone to what Daniel and Louis have done.
Good enough, for now.
Louis adjusts his jacket, brushes some nonexistent lint from the fabric. Yes, they're pushing their luck if they linger.
Back the way we came? Louis questions. Some real enjoyment in the idea of walking out the front door, if they can. We might meet some opposition.
No alarms raised, but the Talamasca hasn't survived this long without some healthy suspicion.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
circling bow territory
jaws theme
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)