The urge to push the vampire into the pool is immense, but pointless. He doesn't. "There's a lot I could have done. Still had an EU passport, had some high up connections over there, and this was just before the divorce so I had money." His gaze is a little distant, expression sad, Armand's description of his daughter in the same kind of predicaments he used to find himself in awakening the old scars of parenthood. "But I love her. Unconditionally. Even when she makes shitty choices. If I'd made that choice for her, or taken it away from her, then who would I be loving: her, or me?"

His gaze sharpens as he brings it back around to the point. He's spent his life writing about people's right to live free of surveillance, the power of individual autonomy, in America and overseas. It probably isn't a surprise that this is his stance: Louis deserves to tell his story no matter what anyone thinks or how much harm it does him.