Daniel can't stop looking at the soft dip of his waist, the heft of his pectorals, things suggested by his expensive shirts and Rashid's elegant blacks but previously only an implication. Daniel makes himself think about how young he looks, to try and guess more concretely what age he was turned, instead of about what pool water would taste like if he licked it off his thigh.

Depravity. It's not the first time he's had to wrestle with these sort of thoughts, he's lives a life with a startling number of pretty young half-clothed men in it, but this is the first time it's felt real. Urgent. Dangerous.

He takes a seat on the deck chair. Thinks very hard about giving Armand the finger in case he's skimming to measure his effect on Daniel, the cheater. "Okay. So. This place. I'm pretty sure we've travelled twenty years back in time. Louis's here, out of his habitat for humanity, can we talk about that? Are you guys getting your takeout arrangements rerouted or just eating free range?"

That last: accusing, in the way Daniel gets about murder, but like his pretence at not noticing Armand's body, it's only skin deep. He has morals, and ethics, in theory — in practise, he's fascinated that Louis might take up killing again.

Also this isn't an apology. The apology is there in his heart, though, maybe.