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Summary
Armand was aware that he often lost time.
It was better now than it had once been.
On the slave ship, in the brothel, when he was in Marius’ care.
He had never questioned why it happened or what caused it. He knew enough of the modern era to know that an answer was likely out there somewhere, but what good would such a thing do him?
Waking up in an unfamiliar bed in an apartment that seemed only vaguely familiar was all the more disconcerting for how long it had been since it had happened to Armand.
He tried to orient himself. He needed to put just enough of the pieces together to know enough to fake his way through his next few interactions and then it would be as if it never happened.