Chapter Text
After Louis leaves to take a rest after another emotional, guilt-ridden, self-pitying rant about Claudia, Armand takes a seat across from Daniel, a little too close, like if one of them moves, their legs might accidentally touch. Neither of them moves a muscle, as if to accidentally even graze each other could cause something disastrous. Perhaps the world will end, or maybe someone dies. Armand crosses his legs, shoulders lax, leaning on his chair with his chin just slightly raised. Annoyed, Daniel in a display of defiant brutishness and confidence, parts his legs more. Acting like some frat guy only pisses Armand off.
"I'd suggest that you stop this interview." Armand is the first one to break the silence. His usual calm, condescending demeanor.
"I flew hundreds of miles, why would I?" Daniel apathetic to his sentiments, doesn't even look at Armand as he writes on his notepad.
"If you reveal our existence to the world, the others will surely hunt him down."
"It's his funeral, why would I care?" still unmoved by Armand's sentiments.
"Of course, you always want to gain something, either a titillating story or a good payout."
"Yup, and an interview with a vampire is both. So save your breath, I still have to email my editor about—"
"I am a man of means, Mr. Molloy. I tend to be lucky with my investments, not just businesses but also with people. Perhaps a large company to back that biography you're working on—wouldn't it be nice if your story could reach a bigger audience?"
Daniel not moving his head, darted his eyes beyond the rims of his glasses.
"You're talking to a twice-divorced 70-year-old man with a successful career and two Pulitzer Prizes." He stopped writing and slammed his pen down with an audible clack. "You cannot buy me with money, power, or fame like some kid desperate to prove himself, and the attempt offends me."
Armand chuckles. What's 70 years to a 500-year-old vampire? '50 years only added venom to your sarcasm; you haven't grown at all,' he wishes he could say.
"You speak of me like I am the devil offering you temptation, when I'm just offering you compensation in exchange for your... reticence."
"And this isn't temptation? Tempting me with money to end this interview and shut the fuck up?"
Daniel's tactlessness and brutish behavior only rile Armand up; the boy claims to know better, but he is naive as always, misplacing his stubbornness for principles and foolishness for bravery. An impulse swells in Armand, and a smirk spills out of his calm and nonchalant demeanor. "Money and connections aren't temptation. I could offer so much more, but I fear I'd just scare you off."
"Try me." Smugness doesn't suit this old man. Armand's eyes are wide with a fire he finds himself struggling to keep at bay.
Neither of them break eye contact, and none of them speak. Is it speechlessness? Is it simmering anger? Is it shocked by the audacity? Is it—
Armand shifts his crossed knee, still keeping eye contact, and points his foot until the toe of his leather shoe puts pressure against Daniel's crotch. A beat of silence, a beat of disbelief.
"Did I not mention I'm 70 years old?" Daniel barely manages to say with his usual sarcastic tone.
"I don't care for it." As much as Armand knows his effect on Daniel, he himself is trying to hold back. To not show how hungry he is for that old man.
"Louis?"
"Neither does he."
"I care"
"No, you don't," Armand scoffs, and there is a beat of speechlessness as Daniel regrets not denying or deflecting fast enough. To deny too late looks too desperate, but not doing so is humiliating all the same.
Armand leans forward, keeping eye contact with a smug expression, the pressure digging deeper. Daniel winces and gasps, his eyes panicked and his body sagging against the chair, his mind running a hundred miles an hour in fear, or is it anticipation? Before he could come to a conclusion, the pressure is gone; Armand stands up to leave.
"Sleep on it; think about it, Mr. Molloy," as he completely leaves the room.
Think about ending the interview or whatever the hell that was?