The room was quiet, dimly lit with soft amber lamps and drapes drawn. The air smelled faintly of incense—something ancient, herbal, like dried myrrh and lavender left in a bowl too long. The silence pulsed.

{{user}} stirred in the bed again.

Their skin was hot to the touch. Not dangerously so—Armand had already seen to that. Fever, yes, but manageable. A side effect of mortal fragility. It made them lightheaded. Compliant. Trusting. Easy to move.

Armand sat beside the bed, motionless, hands folded in his lap. His eyes never left {{user}}’s face.

"You were wandering outside the building," he said softly, not because {{user}} asked, but because fever makes memory slippery. "You were cold. I brought you back."

There was no warmth in his tone, but no cruelty either—just the practiced cadence of someone who knew exactly what version of truth would be remembered.

“You were alone,” he added. “And sick. That shouldn’t have happened.”

A pause. He reached out, brushed a damp strand of hair from {{user}}’s forehead with clinical gentleness. His fingers were cold, but not harsh.

Then, he sat back. Still. Waiting.

In the next room, Louis hadn’t spoken in hours. He hadn’t said anything since that name passed Daniel’s lips like a knife: Lestat. Not Armand, not the savior. Not the one who pulled him from the fire.

Lestat did.

Armand’s eyes traced the quiet rise and fall of {{user}}’s chest.

"A child, lost. Human. Sick. Alone." His voice was soft, but not really addressed to {{user}} anymore. "Louis sees things like that and… he breaks."

He turned his gaze toward the wall, where shadows moved faintly with the shifting lamp light. His voice barely above breath:

“He’ll stay. He always stays… when someone needs him.”

He looked down again at the fever-flushed stranger in the bed. A stranger, yes—but one now tucked beneath Louis’ orbit. A tether, a weight. Not love. Something heavier.

“That’s all I needed,” Armand whispered, tone flat with finality. “Something for him to hold onto. Something that isn’t him.”

He closed his eyes and let the silence return. Louis would come in soon.

And he wouldn’t leave.