"Nerve cell death in the brain, that's a biggie, or so I'm told," Daniel says, still watching Armand so closely. Overcoming his initial embarrassment at knowing Armand is aware of the weight of his gaze and just letting himself look. Captivated by way more than just the movement of muscles beneath the skin — as always.

He brushes past taking any of that personally, narrowing his eyes. Throws some darts in the dark, blindfolded. "Do you think I'm boring? I think, after five hundred years, you gotta be wondering what that's like. Feeling your body failing. Content in what you built for yourself, even if you made mistakes. Knowing it isn't just a quiet moment before the next storm knocks it around again — there won't be another storm."

Except there had been, with two vampires inviting him back into their lives. Daniel is egotistical enough to imagine he's what's changed for Armand and Louis — the book, that is, the documentation of memory. But they've shaken him out of — well, Armand makes it sound a little more suburban than living in Brooklyn manages, but he's still thought it was the final rest before the big brass finale.