The word 'read' appears instantaneously after Daniel sends his one-worded response, but there is no '...' to follow it just yet. Rather, the 'Unknown Number', the sender of the initial text, allows the word to ruminate. Allows it to soak in, allows himself to properly feel it wherein he may have otherwise scoffed or sent back a quickly typed out quip or joke to ease the truth of the word. The word is personal, genuine, and it lands somewhere so profoundly deep within him that it feels as if he were listening in on a dying man's confessional. Perhaps he was... Less than 30 seconds later that blessed '...' appears, and a moment later the first of two responses appears within the message thread. Unknown Number:Oui? Loneliness? Is that all that you see? The solitary confines of another night spent on the sofa gazing into that moving picture box they call television? Oh, ma belle petite journaliste… There was a pause then, wherein the '…' to signify that someone was typing vanished momentarily only to reappear a few seconds later, as if he were attempting to determine precisely what he might say, or perhaps the phrasing of it. And then the next message came through, the five words appearing on the screen with such a weight and meaning that they seemed to glow a bit more brightly than the others. Unknown Number: Perhaps you should look again. This time, as Daniel Molloy would gaze out into the glistening, humid City streets from those glass balcony doors, there would be a man standing across the street, lithe form lent up against a lamppost, clad in a black suit and jacket, blonde hair loose and fluttering gently in the breeze. The moment their eyes met, he would smile, just a little bit. Just enough to let Daniel know he was there with intent.

They had just been talking about Auvergne and the only way Nicolas would even talk to him about anything of significance was if he was allowed to play with Daniel's old tape recorder. The click, click,click of the mechanical buttons pleased him, he liked the noise the machine made when the cassette rewound. More of a fidget toy than a recording device as Daniel used his laptop. What choice did the journalist have but to put up with the noise of Nicolas playing with his cassette recorder or not have the vampire speak at all. Nicolas was like that. He promised to meet him but said nothing from time to time finding Daniel's prying intimidating. Only three weeks ago when Daniel wanted to show him the cassette recorder just for reference did he finally get a hint of how to get Nicolas to open up.

"...I was told to befriend the local aristocracy by my father who admired the titled gentry" Nicolas had been highly educated in the romantic languages, mathematics, learned the trade of a draper as a child under his father and sent to Paris to study law. Just as he was talking about Auvergne his wrists started to bleed again, drip drip drip and yet nothing could have disarmed Nicolas more than Daniel's gentleness when he grabbed the hand towels from the kitchenette in this short term rental that Nicolas certainly was not paying for and held them against his wrist.

"..." Do you know what is it like to be so touch starved that the sheer feeling of another person's warm touch made your body shiver registering as a threat. The act of gentle care disarmed him as he stood there frozen with his wrists in Daniel's hands. "Merci." for a moment the thought of Daniel's warm touch leaving him seemed dreadful.

When the dhampir came to Paris it wasn’t anything less than sensory overload. He had travelled the world ever since he had abandoned his Father’s ruined castle, but this city was truly different than anything he had seen before. Everything seemed to be excess, everything was loud and bright and Alucard was truly blessed that he got to see both sides of this wondrous place. He was only a half-vampire, and even though the sun could feel uncomfortable on his pale skin, the light did not burn it the way it does to full blood vampires. During the day he could walk and explore every corner of the city, strolling the streets and visiting shops to gather the appropriate attire, but there was one place that immediately caught his attention.

The Théâtre des Vampires. It could not really be what Alucard imagined it to be, could it? But when he one evening attended a play, his golden eyes widened slightly as he realized that truly, these actors were vampires. They did not hide what they were, not exactly. Live feedings on stage, disguising it as wondrous plays. Alucard listened to the handsome pale man with his equally pale hair, he listened to his wonderfully smooth voice.

“Do you know what it means to be loved by Death? No pain.”

And then he watched the actor sink his fangs into the skin of his poor victim. Alucard stared both in wonder and horror, then, when the scent of blood reached him, he could feel his own throat burn. When was the last time he had fed? He couldn’t recall, he was still so insisting with his self-punishment, refusing to feed on the people he so desperately wanted to love him, knowing damn well they wouldn’t. They couldn’t.

After the play had ended Alucard remained behind after the rest of the crowd had left the theatre, he watched some of the actors.. no, vampires, start cleaning the stage, but they did not send him away. They had to know what he was, just as he in turn knew what they were. A whole theatre of vampires. It was as fascinating as it was appalling. The woman on stage had been terrified, Alucard had sensed her fear, almost tasted it while the crowd had continued to cheer. He was so hungry.

With all the courage he could muster he asked about the one vampire he wanted to see. Wanted to meet. He was surprised when he was actually brought backstage, but when he finally met the vampire, he was so much more than he had been in the play. The voice that reached him drew him closer, it was almost like he was hypnotized when he stepped closer. There were so many things he wanted to ask, about this vampire, about the theatre, about the poor woman they had murdered on stage. But everything seemed forgotten when the vampire tore open his wrist, letting his blood spill forward before offering it so freely. Could he see Alucard was famished? He swallowed hard and stared at the blood, his throat ached and he tried to resist, he really did, but then he could hear the other vampire’s cooing voice in his mind and Alucard did not have the strength to fight any longer.

The dhampir leaned forward, slender fingers wrapping around the bloodied wrist to lift it to his mouth. First, his tongue lapped at the blood that dropped from the wrist, it traced over the forearm, up and up to where he could feel the pulse against the tip of his tongue, and then it was his turn to sink his fangs into the soft skin.

Alucard groaned in pleasure as the warm blood filled his mouth and he started to drink eagerly, only just now realizing how badly he had starved himself this time. And a vampire’s blood was so much more nurturing, but also.. so much more addicting.

lucifer recognized the names in the book before he realized the true gravity of the publication. the demons spoke of the vampires, as if their drama was their own reality show for the past couple centuries - after all, that's when it started getting good. he never bothered himself with the details, until the interview with the vampire dropped, and became inescapable. he'd never bothered with a human book before, finding the entire medium trite and inarticulate. but intuition led him to purchase the thing, and then devour it whole. the author, one daniel molloy, knew far too much, and though it didn't make much sense, he knew he had to meet him. he never meddled with vampire affairs, but becoming a human has forced him to seek avenues he'd never cared to look down before.

lucifer could not understand email, nor could he seem to track the human. louis, lestat, armand - all named in the book - were more untouchable to him, in his limited form, so it seemed natural to try and seek out daniel molloy. the opportunity didn't come for a long while, and he was forced to search other leads and become accustomed to human life. at least the food was good. his chance finally came when lestat himself went on tour, and he heard of daniel molloy following him around with a documentary crew. all that was left was to wait for them to hit his town. electronic devices never came naturally to him, but he followed the tour's progress on his cheap touch screen phone and found a town to semi-settle in, waiting for them to stop there.

maybe his stalking of daniel molloy became obsessive. but this was a man that danced with vampires and lived to tell the tale - to commercial success, even. the ticket he bought to lestat's show afforded him his first glimpse of daniel molloy in person, and he realized he'd made a fatal mistake. the man was less man, and much more infant vampire, and his wariness grew. but he couldn't lose his chance. he left the show early, setting up shop at a bowling alley nearby, counting the minutes until daniel molloy appeared, not-so-alive but certainly in the flesh. the place was practically empty as he watched him with as empty of a mind as he could, only chancing an approach when the man had scored three strikes in a row.

he strolled over to the end of the lane, where shoes became required - shoes he'd reluctantly rented, feeling revolted by the concept, but by any means necessary. he murdered an entire town to summon death, surely he can force himself to wear bowling shoes. "daniel molloy?" he calls, crossing his arms in a casual way, a default pose. he calls upon the calming drawl of his archangel days, watching the 'old' man slowly. "i'd like a conversation with you."

You would think that perhaps Daniel would have been used to Armand appearing out of nowhere by now. Be expecting it around every corner. But that was the thing- he could never predict when or where. There was no timeline, no standard pattern. Armand was chaotic in his hunt, and Daniel had no choice but to let down his guard. Made it all the more thrilling when his lover at last revealed himself.

Daniel looked down at the scarf for a moment, fingering it absent-mindedly as he did so. It was the kind of action that made his heart ache. Made him think that perhaps this chase around the world was more than obsession, more than a thrilling game. But then he'd shake himself out of that line of thinking- what they had was enough.

"Don't tell me you're worried about me, boss," Daniel teased, looking up from the fringes of the scarf and into Armand's eyes. Those penetrating, ethereal eyes that never failed to capture Daniel's fascination.

Armand had rested easily that day, not a feat that was achieved with as much regularity as it should have been. The presence of another body with him probably helped. For all of his cattiness and harshness, Santiago was his choice of companion for that time, and Armand relished his presence beside him. Santiago was never going to be a great love of Armand's existence but he fulfilled a purpose and was a highly skilled actor and lover and that pleased Armand. It pleased him enough that he had decided that they would have somewhat of a lazy 'morning' together. Santiago knew their evening show and his role inside and out and Armand's new production wasn't due to debut until Christmas. They had time.

"So, the diva has awoken and what does he crave this evening hmm?" Armand's reply carried the same quality to it that a cat would exhibit when it purred, enjoying the feeling of Santagio's hands in his hair. His lips twitched upwards into a self satisfied smile at the compliment that Santiago had shared with him in that most intimate of ways for vampires. He did not need to know that Armand had complicated feelings on that buried beneath the surface. After all, they were only fucking. This was a Master playing with his favoured pet and nothing more than that. It would never be anything more than that.