The rent boy, who had turned out to be the long term relationship who didn't need it besides. Daniel feels a touch of ruefulness at being reminded of that particular turn of phrase, but he's never been a guy to really think before he speaks, especially not now he's older.
"You think I want to be tied to Louis indefinitely?" Daniel asks, the sardonic irony of that question written all over his face: "That's your deal."
Making it about who the offer came from, rather than the offer itself, tantalising and abominable the more he hears about it. When he considers it, it's not because he's afraid of death, but the infirmity coming. The possibility that vampirism wouldn't cure that and he'd be signing up for immortality as a cripple is a risk he can't even verbalize the horror of, becomes tetchy at the thought of being made to.
He's ruining the moment with it though, knows it and does it anyway. Can feel the unpleasant tension between them, the way that 'we' and 'our' in Armand's small mouth, those tangerine eyes, pulls something sharp below his stomach that does, yeah, feel like regret. "And I get the impression that despite that bullshit offer he doesn't actually expect me to live long once we're finished with the memoirs," Daniel deflects lightly. "Isn't that why I'm the perfect choice of whore-journalist? Less guilt when the rest of vampire-kind knocks on my door with their fangs out."
no subject
"You think I want to be tied to Louis indefinitely?" Daniel asks, the sardonic irony of that question written all over his face: "That's your deal."
Making it about who the offer came from, rather than the offer itself, tantalising and abominable the more he hears about it. When he considers it, it's not because he's afraid of death, but the infirmity coming. The possibility that vampirism wouldn't cure that and he'd be signing up for immortality as a cripple is a risk he can't even verbalize the horror of, becomes tetchy at the thought of being made to.
He's ruining the moment with it though, knows it and does it anyway. Can feel the unpleasant tension between them, the way that 'we' and 'our' in Armand's small mouth, those tangerine eyes, pulls something sharp below his stomach that does, yeah, feel like regret. "And I get the impression that despite that bullshit offer he doesn't actually expect me to live long once we're finished with the memoirs," Daniel deflects lightly. "Isn't that why I'm the perfect choice of whore-journalist? Less guilt when the rest of vampire-kind knocks on my door with their fangs out."