[ Cruel, Armand offers no sympathy, no human attempt to soften the blow. He just watches John from behind the round orange tinted lenses of his sunglasses, his expression unchanging in the face of a god's incalculable grief. ]

They hate us for it, in the end. The ones we create. [ He's glad, for the first time, that Daniel cannot sense his thoughts. His mind is locked off and closed nevertheless. Louis doesn't need to hear this refrain again. ]

He is my first and last, but I have witnessed it in others. Their fear and resentment. Their madness. I watched the children of my coven walk into the fires and into the sunlight to end themselves. I didn't stop them. Yet we do it anyway.

[ Now his gaze does tick back over to House and Daniel. He adds, softly, almost to himself: ]

And I do not regret it.