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Armand was curious.
He did not care for unanswered curiosities.
That was why he was spending another day observing and following the peculiar mortal, Daniel Molloy. Equal parts frustrating and brilliant, Daniel was an outstanding example of someone with so much potential, but nothing to show for it. He spent his days exploring the city, searching for something to pique his interest, and his nights at the bottom of a bottle or the tip of a needle. During the day, Armand followed Daniel’s thoughts, seeing him through the eyes of strangers, but at night he was free to explore his world, from a distance.
Tonight, Daniel had left the local shelter. He didn’t have the money for a room anywhere, and now that he was a graduate, he had no rights to student dorms. He slept in an uncomfortable cot, ate whatever food was available at the nearest soup kitchen, and showered using public bathrooms and gym facilities (when he could sneak in).
Armand was surprised. Daniel was a talented writer. Surely, he could scrap together enough money for a small studio somewhere. And maybe he could if he didn’t need something else more.
Every other week, never more than thirteen days passing, Daniel would find the cheapest dealer, give them everything he had, and scurry away to shoot up. It was becoming worrisome. Daniel’s dependence on heroin was growing too strong. He was on the verge of breaking, being consumed by his addiction, but Armand did not intervene.
Until he did.
The dealer, a scruffy thing set up outside a popular nightclub, leaned against the wall with a cocky grin and dilated eyes. He had fresh marks on his own arms, and he was running his eyes over Daniel’s body like he was appraising him, seeing if he approved. It made Armand sick.
“I think we can figure something out,” He said. “If you know what I mean,” He lowered his hands to his belt and tugged it obnoxiously. If anyone saw them, they would know what he was suggesting without needing to hear anything.
“I don’t want to – I’m not…” Daniel’s voice faded, his confidence faltering with every passing second.
The dealer laughed.
“Neither am I, man, but a mouth’s a mouth,”
Daniel grimaced at the crude words. He looked up and down the back alley, searching for anyone who may be watching them, but completely unaware of Armand’s presence from above. Daniel’s cheeks were enflamed, and his eyes were red-rimmed with unshed tears. Despite the shame, the obvious disinterest, and the need to say no, Daniel lowered to his knees.
Absolutely not.
Armand appeared, startling the pair, before reaching for Daniel’s elbow and dragging him back to his feet. He pulled Daniel away from the man and left him in the middle of the alley as he approached the dealer and grabbed him by the neck, squeezing it tightly until his face turned red as his hands clawed and grabbed at Armand’s arm.
“Leave,” Armand ordered, his voice filled with the supernatural power of manipulation, removing any right to deny his commands. “You will not remember this,” Armand let the dealer go and watched as he walked away, his eyes glazed over and his movements robotic and stiff.
“How – When did you –,” Daniel ran his shaking hands over his flushed face. “Why did you do that?!” Daniel yelled.
Armand tilted his head to the side, watching him intently, and tried to understand why Daniel was so clearly angry. He gave a thoughtful hum before shrugging his shoulders with the ease of a disinterested stranger.
Daniel groaned and got back to his knees in front of the brick wall. He began scrambling against the red bricks, scratching and trying to pull them from the stable wall, cursing under his breath.
“What are you doing?” Armand asked, genuinely curious.
“It has to be here,” Daniel muttered, barely paying any attention to Armand. “It has to be here. His stash has to be here,”
“But it’s not,” Armand said. “What he had is with him. That was all he brought,”
“No, no, no,” Daniel hit his hands against the hard wall, his hands pulling away redder than before.
“Why do you want drugs?” Armand asked. “You’re almost two weeks sober,”
“None of your damn – Wait, what?”
Daniel turned to Armand, his hands falling away from the wall, and slowly got back to his feet. His knees were covered in dirt, his hands rough and sore, and his cheeks were flushed red. Even in this dishevelled state, Daniel was quite lovely.
“In…two hours,” Armand said, pausing to check his watch. “You’ll be two weeks sober. This is closer than you’ve ever gotten before,”
Daniel stammered. He fumbled over his words before his body turned loose, resting against the wall, and looking at Armand with wide eyes.
“You’ve been watching me,”
Armand nodded.
“Yes,”
“Why?” Daniel asked, stunned by the simplicity with which Armand answered him.
“Because I find you interesting,” Armand said. “Come,” He turned to leave, holding out his hand for Daniel to take to lead him away. “We’ll find somewhere to celebrate your sobriety. Oh, cake!” He exclaimed suddenly. “Mortals like cake, don’t they?”