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.
Options— stairs with fire alarms on the doors, and the elevator, which is no doubt being monitored. Daniel moves towards the stairwell first, but pauses, sensing activity on the floor above them. Getting pretty good at figuring out where people are, at least nearby. Maybe a modest single family home's worth of a radius.
Daniel does not really want opposition. Louis might find it interesting, or thrilling, Daniel doesn't know. He's not afraid, not of getting into a scuffle nor of Louis, but he's never been a violence guy. He'll offer a blowjob before he throws a punch, but the former definitely isn't going to help, here, so uh.
'Elevator, I guess?'
Will it even show up. Daniel pings the button, but after a moment, he just shoves the doors to the shaft open. It's clearly been turned off.
"They're on to us," Louis deadpans, spoken aloud even as his amusement glows in Daniel's head.
We can climb, is the more practical suggestion. Elevator shafts are made to be traversed, to some extent. It would be challenging to a human. It is not impossible for a vampire.
Louis ducks beneath Daniel's arm to look up, send his focus upwards to feel the absence of power. Find an absence of cameras. One advantage. An elevator shaft not truly equipped to monitor a pair of vampires scaling the walls.
We can pick any floor is more or less true. Amends, Maybe skip the lobby.
Vague impressions in Louis' mind. Dropping from high windows, landing in the street. Not discreet, but that's the Talamasca's problem to solve.
It sure is (their problem to solve). Daniel laughs a little, and watches Louis, how he darts around. Remembers the the last time he saw him, remembers flinching away, startled in the aftermath of violence against Armand. Who deserved it, true.
Louis is—
Beautiful. It strikes him, out of nowhere like a sucker punch. He's always known, he'd been smitten by him immediately fifty years ago. But with these eyes, transformed as they are, Daniel can see just how truly radiant he is. And he seems happy, or at least, he seems like himself. Dark and real, at least honest.
He shakes it off. Hopefully Louis didn't get much of an impression. Embarrassing.
A good moment for stray thoughts: Louis' attention occupied with mapping out the movements above, focus split away from Daniel, catching only the tail end of a thought, more impression than anything else. Enough to inspire some warm feeling in return, reassuring, a brush of fingers across knuckles. A minor acknowledgement, complicated feelings or no, of Daniel's care. Gratitude that Daniel cares at all for Louis' well being, given all that's happened. All Louis has permitted to happen.
"Stay close," is what Louis says aloud. Flashes a grin over his shoulder, and steps into the shaft. Begins to climb.
It's a pleasant enough exertion. Easy going, up and up and up, Louis' mind open to the buzz of Talamasca agent minds. Most shielded, but some cracks here and there. Enough to guide Louis' decision when he swings out from the handholds to begin levering open a door.
Third floor. Not abandoned, but not packed with opposition. A handful of agents rushing, chattering, occupied with their daily tasks.
No one immediately notices the elevator door pulling open, no ding of arrival heralding the occasion.
Daniel will always care about Louis. He did even when he only remembered half of him. He hopes Louis knows that, and believes that, despite everything. Despite the book he's going to force into existence, despite the way he shies away from that little psychic affection (embarrassed, private), despite being a walking, talking, reminder of Armand, heart beating only because of the fuckhead's blood, and sharing his unnerving, glowing eyes.
Fast, easy, and he's grateful for it— sometimes every so often he finds himself fumbling, and feels panic rise in him, thinking it's his hands trembling again when it's just baby deer legs. There's a half-open door with a clear view towards them, but Daniel quietly shuts it, like dropping a cover over a parrot's cage. Shh, nothing going on out here.
Sturdy windows, treated to see through from the inside while remaining opaque from the outside, security bars, a tiny tab that suggests an alarm system. Daniel runs a hand along it, trying to find the wire, and then jams his thumb through the wall below the frame. Clumsy, but, hm.
He pokes at the wire.
"Think an alarm will go off if we tamper with it?"
Louis doesn't sound very concerned but he suspects Daniel might want to avoid tripping an alarm.
It's a curious thing, these inner workings of the Talamasca. All these human precautions, and they are nothing for two vampires. A minor inconvenience. They'd be less of one if Daniel and Louis were different vampires.
"Are you worried about the alarm system?"
Direct.
They're in each others heads. Louis asks him this aloud anyway.
Does he understand the way Daniel cares for him? Yes. No.
It's complicated. Louis is many things. Depressive and guilty and angry. He failed Daniel. He is aware of it. It shifts his perception of who could feel what, of what Daniel could forgive and Daniel could feel for him, the person responsible for so much of what's befallen him.
Wry. Maybe he doesn't care, morally or ethically, no, but he might like to avoid a scene. A complicated relationship with these people. They owe he and Louis, but they also got him the real deal, the actual script, annotated by Armand. He thinks Louis would have wanted to believe him, without hard evidence, without the smoking gun that made all the smugness slide off Armand's face. But would he have been able to push all the way through?
So small, when he notices. Not a fully conscious noticing. An awareness like feeling pressure shift in a room. The door he closed, soft and quick to open again, and—
BANG.
A gunshot rings out a split-second after Daniel has grabbed Louis and pulled him close
CRACK.
It smashes into the glass, gets stuck in it, fucking Pope-proof windows, sending a spiderweb of a shatter. Daniel looks horrified, frozen in the heartbeat of a moment, suspended in time, slowly coming to terms with this abrupt change as the ticktick of one and a half seconds sluggishly drags on.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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
Options— stairs with fire alarms on the doors, and the elevator, which is no doubt being monitored. Daniel moves towards the stairwell first, but pauses, sensing activity on the floor above them. Getting pretty good at figuring out where people are, at least nearby. Maybe a modest single family home's worth of a radius.
Daniel does not really want opposition. Louis might find it interesting, or thrilling, Daniel doesn't know. He's not afraid, not of getting into a scuffle nor of Louis, but he's never been a violence guy. He'll offer a blowjob before he throws a punch, but the former definitely isn't going to help, here, so uh.
'Elevator, I guess?'
Will it even show up. Daniel pings the button, but after a moment, he just shoves the doors to the shaft open. It's clearly been turned off.
no subject
We can climb, is the more practical suggestion. Elevator shafts are made to be traversed, to some extent. It would be challenging to a human. It is not impossible for a vampire.
Louis ducks beneath Daniel's arm to look up, send his focus upwards to feel the absence of power. Find an absence of cameras. One advantage. An elevator shaft not truly equipped to monitor a pair of vampires scaling the walls.
We can pick any floor is more or less true. Amends, Maybe skip the lobby.
Vague impressions in Louis' mind. Dropping from high windows, landing in the street. Not discreet, but that's the Talamasca's problem to solve.
no subject
Louis is—
Beautiful. It strikes him, out of nowhere like a sucker punch. He's always known, he'd been smitten by him immediately fifty years ago. But with these eyes, transformed as they are, Daniel can see just how truly radiant he is. And he seems happy, or at least, he seems like himself. Dark and real, at least honest.
He shakes it off. Hopefully Louis didn't get much of an impression. Embarrassing.
"Alright, up, and pick your favorite window."
no subject
"Stay close," is what Louis says aloud. Flashes a grin over his shoulder, and steps into the shaft. Begins to climb.
It's a pleasant enough exertion. Easy going, up and up and up, Louis' mind open to the buzz of Talamasca agent minds. Most shielded, but some cracks here and there. Enough to guide Louis' decision when he swings out from the handholds to begin levering open a door.
Third floor. Not abandoned, but not packed with opposition. A handful of agents rushing, chattering, occupied with their daily tasks.
No one immediately notices the elevator door pulling open, no ding of arrival heralding the occasion.
no subject
Fast, easy, and he's grateful for it— sometimes every so often he finds himself fumbling, and feels panic rise in him, thinking it's his hands trembling again when it's just baby deer legs. There's a half-open door with a clear view towards them, but Daniel quietly shuts it, like dropping a cover over a parrot's cage. Shh, nothing going on out here.
Sturdy windows, treated to see through from the inside while remaining opaque from the outside, security bars, a tiny tab that suggests an alarm system. Daniel runs a hand along it, trying to find the wire, and then jams his thumb through the wall below the frame. Clumsy, but, hm.
He pokes at the wire.
"Think an alarm will go off if we tamper with it?"
no subject
Louis doesn't sound very concerned but he suspects Daniel might want to avoid tripping an alarm.
It's a curious thing, these inner workings of the Talamasca. All these human precautions, and they are nothing for two vampires. A minor inconvenience. They'd be less of one if Daniel and Louis were different vampires.
"Are you worried about the alarm system?"
Direct.
They're in each others heads. Louis asks him this aloud anyway.
Does he understand the way Daniel cares for him? Yes. No.
It's complicated. Louis is many things. Depressive and guilty and angry. He failed Daniel. He is aware of it. It shifts his perception of who could feel what, of what Daniel could forgive and Daniel could feel for him, the person responsible for so much of what's befallen him.
no subject
Wry. Maybe he doesn't care, morally or ethically, no, but he might like to avoid a scene. A complicated relationship with these people. They owe he and Louis, but they also got him the real deal, the actual script, annotated by Armand. He thinks Louis would have wanted to believe him, without hard evidence, without the smoking gun that made all the smugness slide off Armand's face. But would he have been able to push all the way through?
So small, when he notices. Not a fully conscious noticing. An awareness like feeling pressure shift in a room. The door he closed, soft and quick to open again, and—
BANG.
A gunshot rings out a split-second after Daniel has grabbed Louis and pulled him close
CRACK.
It smashes into the glass, gets stuck in it, fucking Pope-proof windows, sending a spiderweb of a shatter. Daniel looks horrified, frozen in the heartbeat of a moment, suspended in time, slowly coming to terms with this abrupt change as the ticktick of one and a half seconds sluggishly drags on.