daniel molloy

"i mean, we can." daniel molloy scratched his jaw as he glanced down at the small television, sitting in the corner of the shitty motel room he was staying at. there was water damage adorning the yellowing ceilings and the light scent of tobacco and cleaning chemicals clung to the maroon carpet. still, the promising young reporter had managed to get armand in there to, what? watch a fucking movie? that's something normal people do, right? they watch movies together and they don't need to get high or to offer anything else besides their company and their time ... green eyes glanced at the vampire armand again. certainly that wasn't the only reason he had come. there had to be more than that, right?

he is not in the nicest neighbourhood for anyone to be walking through alone at night. daniel knows this, he fucking knows it, but he also knows that, if he manages to walk past three more blocks unscathed, he'll find a nice little gay bar called liza's, where he'll manage to find some schmuck to swindle out of a couch or a few bucks or an interview or a few grams of coke or whatever the hell they've got to offer that'll help him to fight off the withdrawal chills. it's not been an easy couple of months. right now, molloy is just trying to make it through the night.

daniel takes a turn --- and he swears he sees a shadow, moving across the wall. when he turns his head, he finds nothing but trashcans and piss stains waiting for him.

a light wave of paranoia washes over him. it couldn't be the feds, they would have already jumped and cuffed him. maybe someone he owed money to? had he been followed all the way back from san francisco to san diego? the sound of his footsteps echoed against the walls of a narrow street. though he could not hear any shoe heels, clicking against the asphalt, daniel felt something on him. a presence. the particles in the air around him shifted despite of him.

he watched, with a deadpan look, as the boy before him raised a finger to his lips. the line of the computer's sound recorder went flat for a few seconds. through the power of roman roy's obnoxious tendencies, the pulse of the interview had ceased and daniel, for the second time that morning, considered doing the same to the roy heir.

the kid's childish bravado might have charmed some of his peers, but daniel molloy was not entertained by the kid's performance. not one bit. "mr. roy, if you don't want to comment on your role regarding the failed satellite launch, you can just say no comment." the reporter flashed a tight smile, emptied of any warmth or truth before lowering his gaze to glance down at his notes. he scratched the word satellite off a small list. the next topic he had planned to bring up pertained to his sister's role, or the apparent lack of it, within the company.

but as his eyes travelled along his own handwritten suggestions, something caught his eye. the words had small question marks drawn all around them as if the daniel of the past was unsure whether to bring the topic up or not. it felt like a low blow. but it was important in order to paint a picture of who roman roy was as a human being rather than as a business man. or, that was what daniel told himself in order to justify this unexpected choice.

"listen, lestat," daniel has to take off his sunglasses and rub over his eyes. though he has immortality to look forward to, the tiredness of old age hits him like a ton of bricks every time he has to deal with lestat de lioncourt's antics. another camera lens had been destroyed because of molloy's line of questioning ; he hadn't sympathised with this documentary's subject enough during a certain portion of his life story. and sure, he was important enough to keep the producers at bay, but there was so much a rockstar's mean look could do.

this was the fifth time one of his higher ups tried to intervene during filming. money was getting bled out of them to fix or buy new equipment. the amount they had spent on NDA's alone was unlike anything daniel had ever witnessed. when he looked at the vampire sitting across from him again, the journalist did not appear particularly appreciative.

"this whole operation is gonna get shut down if you keep breaking our equipment." daniel pointed out, shrugging his shoulders a bit as if unsure of how else to approach the star of his latest project. "how hard is it to sit back and answer questions? i mean, you're a rockstar, man! you should be used to interviews!" his voice rises with outrage as he states, what he believes to be, common sense. asking lestat questions had been like pulling teeth. if he didn't appreciate daniel's tone or something felt too personal or invasive or if he just wasn't in a good mood that evening, crack went the lens, boom went the lightbulbs, thump went the fucking boom operator. it'd be funny if it didn't set them back two fucking weeks each time the great vampire lestat threw a fit!

it feels like they've been spinning under the dancefloor's dim blue lights for days. daniel doesn't know whether it's the drugs or the blood or having armand pressed up against him which is causing that strange sense of vertigo. his mouth clumsily presses wet kisses along the other man's cheek as the music grows into a frenzied crescendo. attaching his mouth to the other man's skin is the only thing keeping him anchored to planet earth. his hands grab and tug at the vampire's satin shirt, threatening to ruin the otherwise pristine tucked-in look.

he buries his face against the crook of armand's neck and bites there, too far gone to care whether this is too much public affection for a wednesday evening. all he cares about is the other man's scent and how his cold flesh burns against his lips --- molloy wants to break through the skin. leave a mark on his neck like armand has done so many times before. but his teeth are too blunt. at this rate, all he can hope to deliver is a pathetic hickey.

it is armand who grabs his chin and guides him to meet his eyes once more. if he were to tell daniel that up was down and north was south, right there and then he'd have excitedly agreed. his hands pressed against his lower back, urging him closer still. and when armand leans in for a kiss, the young reporter is all too eager to oblige. he parts his lips and welcomes anything and everything armand has to offer. he sighs, relieved to finally have a confirmation that he hasn't fucked things up yet and that the vampire is still entertained by his company despite his pupils having grown three times their normal size.