spot and glaring.

"Fine. I'll fire up the laptop and you can tell me your side of the story, then, Armand. I'm sure it will completely exonerate you of any wrongdoing."

As Armand stepped closer still, Daniel's neck and shoulders began to tense. Everything in him was screaming to back away, to put distance between them once again, and his heart pounded almost painfully in his chest. Stubbornness — or maybe the aforementioned spite — kept him rooted to the ;

six days of my fucking life while you kept me in that apartment. Maybe you should have covered your tracks better. Or, you know, not been a complete piece of shit."

As Armand took those few steps closer, Daniel straightened his back, his fingers twitching and curling at his sides, but he stood firm.

"It wasn't a 'biased view'," he said, his voice never wavering. "The truth was always going to be the truth, even if I wasn't pissed that you 𝘛𝘰𝘵𝘢𝘭 𝘙𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭'd ;

him. What a crock of shit.

"Let me stop you right there," he said, tone dripping with animosity. "You destroyed your own life the second you agreed to betray Louis and Claudia, preceding a cataclysmic series of fuck ups of your own making over a span of 80 years. All I did was shine a light on it."

if Daniel was being honest, he was) but there was something oddly familiar about his presence here. It felt natural, as if Daniel had seen him here a hundred times before.

The vampire's words made something twinge in his belly, though, and all at once, a new surge of annoyance coursed through ;

Daniel watched Armand carefully, mindlessly aware of the familiarity with which he moved about the room and, now, straightened the lampshade on one of the unlit lamps in the room. Sure, it could be read as a power play, taking up his space as though he was in full control of the situation (which, ;

face. If Armand wanted him dead, Daniel knew there was very little he could do about it.

"Armand," he said, the initial greeting sounding polite and familiar before the snarky edge to his next words returned. "Are you here to kill me, finally?"

realistically, it wasn't as though the words held any real power. Armand was still fully capable of ignoring the demand, and it seemed Daniel's luck had run out.

His expression shifted as soon as the initial shock wore off, and he sighed quietly as a sort of resigned annoyance flitted across his ;

The sudden sound of a voice breaking the silence startled him, and he whirled around as quickly as his back would allow, eyes wide as they fell upon the source of that voice.

He should have expected this, and maybe on some level, he had. Louis's warning to Armand had been clear and succinct, but ;

Eventually, though, the show lost whatever charm it had, and he sighed deeply, pressing the power button on the remote harder than he needed to before sitting up along the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees.

Maybe he should just go to bed.

of not being quite alone always making him feel slightly paranoid. It was like being haunted, only Daniel didn't know by what. He only knew what he felt.

Tonight, though, only two lamps were illuminated - one in the living room, one near the kitchen - and Daniel, as usual, ignored the feeling. ;

was completely oblivious to the presence of another person in the room, skulking in doorways and lingering in the shadows.

There had been a time when every lamp he owned would be on, spilling varying shades of amber and harsh blue-white light across every inch of the apartment, a constant feeling ;

The writer's strike was well underway, so tonight's episode of SNL was a rerun. That was fine, though, because it wasn't a show that Daniel indulged in very often, so it was all new to him.

He was so wrapped up in the skits (cringy at times with a few scattered moments of genuine humor) that he ;