#haha about to have a fun chill conversation with my beloved human companion i sure hope he doesn't tell me anything that would enrage me!

[andessence]

@desperuntion | plotted starter.

"Did he enjoy you, Daniel?" Armand asks, turning his head to the approaching figure in the blue glow of the television sets. He's muted the volume of two warring sets of dialogue to focus on his lover, newly awoken, and he's even curled his legs up beneath him on the couch to suggest that Daniel claim the emptied space beside him.

Did he enjoy you? Louis, he means. Daniel had stayed out until after sunrise, and so Armand had not been able to see him off to sleep when he came home from his rendezvous. (With Armand's one-time companion. They're all being very modern about the mutually felt interest. That's what Daniel had called it. 'Very modern.' Armand thinks the understanding seems more like that of the ancients.) But the glass of water and bottle of ibuprofen on Daniel's nightstand were the quiet vestiges of Armand's care, even after the coming of the day had relegated him to his coffin. And late to bed, late to rise, as it followed; Daniel had not emerged from his room until well after nightfall, before which time Armand readily occupied himself with his screens. Now, however, he's eager to exchange the TVs for Daniel's conversation.

He might have asked if Daniel had enjoyed himself, but knows that this degrading alternative will excite him. And Armand has to play along, show his approval of Daniel's extracurricular engagement; he can feel a quiet nervousness radiating from him the second he enters the room, even without peering into his mind. Perhaps he frets that in the hours apart Armand had changed his mind and revoked his permission? He must be assured that this is not the case — that even the giving of permission was in some way theatrical, unreal. There is precious little Armand would not allow Daniel, really.

"Come, sit. Regale me."