Lately, Louis has been making some small efforts to stop in and check on Armand - to sit quietly on the daybed reading while his love prays or prunes plants. A small gesture to ease the older vampire's struggle with their changing relationship. He won't have to feel the need to provide for Louis, after all, if he's around, needless and relaxed.

It's this very same assumption that brings him to the solarium today, a dog-eared book under one arm (a tired copy of georgia o'keeffe: a life) as he nudges the door open. He moves quietly, silently, in hopes of finding his love in some manner of repose so he may surprise him. He's not here - it's immediately apparent, and he stands, watching the newcomer with curiosity.

"Oleander," he says finally, having silently approached and stopped a few feet from her. "Love, beauty, resilience. Beautiful when it blooms."

Deadly, however - the leaves.