text; un: armand

[rescinded_vow]

[ The text post is dated the 10th and Armand frowns at his phone as he types. There's still time, but it's certainly not long to find the answers he seeks. He glances at the bottle of blood on the kitchen counter and snaps a quick photo to include with his question. ]

Is there any doctor or person of science that can help with studying this:

[It's...well yep, that sure is a bottle of blood. It's even helpfully labelled like a carton of milk!]

I wish to know everything possible about this, but my understanding is not comprehensive enough. I am hopeful to find tools and equipment at the University campus, but another's experience would be appreciated greatly.

Comments

[deathoftheauthor]

( Louis lets out a breath, small and skeptical, unsure whether Armand is trying to get at something with that remark or if he's being entirely sincere. He settles doubtfully on the latter, though the beginning of their conversation does make him wonder. )

I am not the only thing in this city that fascinates him.

( And if Louis is being so circumspect about it, it's to avoid direct contact with his own peculiar and complicated feelings on the matter. No, it's good that Lestat isn't miserable here with only him for company, Louis is grateful for that. And what claim can he possibly stake on a man he spent so long resenting? A man whose blood he refuses to drink, the cruelest of rejections for their kind... )

I may not be able to give you every comfort you would seek. ( To put it delicately. Armand's appetites are nothing like his own, and that fact has nothing to do with anyone but Louis himself. ) But I would sit and talk with you, if you would have me...

[rescinded_vow]

[ Something vulnerable and raw crawls through him at Louis' tone, at his offer. He's slowly moving from his eerie stillness, shifting round on the stool he's perched on to regard the little living space at his back. Already there are small touches here and there of his own whims and tastes taking root, the abundance of candles being one of them and the low light is soothing. ]

..Alright. I-- I will send you the address.

[ His tone is hesitant, tired sounding, but Armand is making to stand at least, tucking the phone between his ear and shoulder to hug his elbows as he moves through the apartment with a mind to wash his face. ]

Thank you, Louis..

[deathoftheauthor]

You're most welcome.

I'll be there soon.

( Louis pens a note explaining his whereabouts and that he intends to be back before dawn, and the moment Armand sends the address, he pulls on his boots and heads out the door.

Louis always travels at the speed of a mortal, and he feels an odd sense that he should give Armand privacy, time to collect himself, something like that. On the way, he finds a tattered-looking rose bush clinging to a chain link fence, and, finding it strangely touching, gets lost admiring it for a little while. With a quiet "merci" to the plant for its sacrifice, he severs the stem of the finest bloom.

He's still holding it when he knocks on Armand's door. )