The noise of the party is a little faded, and Daniel carefully doesn't think about why it's dangerous to be alone with Armand: he knows what this guy is, knows he has to kill to eat, and has a bad habit of exposing predators. There's a manor full of prey that might start looking more appetising if Armand hasn't arranged for a young volunteer from upstate to visit with his willing masochist's neck. But that train of thought is kinda dangerous in and of itself. And yet it rises up, noxious bubbles of logic, through the thick syrup of empathy he feels at that soft voiced little glimpse at Armand's own traumas, whatever they may be.
"Hey, uh," (an uncharacteristic fumble reminiscent of the youth Armand once knew) "If we're going to gave a philosophical conversation, I'd like to do it somewhere comfortable." He'd like to sit down, with a new drink - he kind of also wants a tape recorder, not because this is another interview but because the tapes from San Francisco in the eighties were hard evidence. Isn't that more of what they're talking about? The central fucking theme? Memory can't be trusted.
But failing that last, he's going to go brave the inside to find a study or something. Warm air. A couch.
no subject
The noise of the party is a little faded, and Daniel carefully doesn't think about why it's dangerous to be alone with Armand: he knows what this guy is, knows he has to kill to eat, and has a bad habit of exposing predators. There's a manor full of prey that might start looking more appetising if Armand hasn't arranged for a young volunteer from upstate to visit with his willing masochist's neck. But that train of thought is kinda dangerous in and of itself. And yet it rises up, noxious bubbles of logic, through the thick syrup of empathy he feels at that soft voiced little glimpse at Armand's own traumas, whatever they may be.
"Hey, uh," (an uncharacteristic fumble reminiscent of the youth Armand once knew) "If we're going to gave a philosophical conversation, I'd like to do it somewhere comfortable." He'd like to sit down, with a new drink - he kind of also wants a tape recorder, not because this is another interview but because the tapes from San Francisco in the eighties were hard evidence. Isn't that more of what they're talking about? The central fucking theme? Memory can't be trusted.
But failing that last, he's going to go brave the inside to find a study or something. Warm air. A couch.