Chapter Text
"I keep having this dream." Daniel's looking not at the red wine in his glass but at the blood in Louis's. "Very vivid. We're in the elevator." He looks up —gives Louis a smile that's almost a grimace, like he already regrets starting down this path. He goes on. "I make a bad joke. I don't remember what, only that it's bad."
"Something about crucifixes," Louis offers, unsure of whether he's guessing or remembering. It must be a memory: Daniel's voice is clear in his mind, amused, a little nasal, so much younger, 'a Catholic vampire?' Something about Mass.
"Probably."