(ARMAND) Were you with Mr. Molloy the entire dinner?
(REAL RASHID) He used the restroom for approximately five minutes, sir.
(DANIEL) Had a piece of halibut that still wanted to swim.
Armand had reels of himself reciting poetry in Italian or Latin, or merely staring with his arms folded, a gleaming white presence slipping in and out of focus in eternally dim bronze light.
Then one scene in particular became Armand’s favorite: the dwarfs on a broken-down stage in Castelleone singing “Me and My Shadow” for Napoleon really sent Armand out of his mind.
It would bring a slow and almost impish laugh from Armand, the bones cracking, the look in Hauer’s ice-cold blue eye. “That’s your friend, Lestat, there,” Armand whispered once to Daniel. “Lestat would have the... How do you say?... Guts?... To do that!”
Over and over he watched Ridley Scott’s Blade Runner, fascinated by Rutger Hauer, the powerfully built actor who, as the leader of the rebel androids, confronts his human maker, kisses him, and then crushes his skull.
Anything with blue skies enthralled him. Then he must watch news programs, prime time series, documentaries, and finally every film, regardless of merit, ever taped.
Armand pulled him back against the building. It was useless. They could not get to Lestat. And they had no cover. Dragging Daniel after him, Armand retreated into the hall again.
(ARMAND) My first memory. I’m being run down by slavers in Delhi. My second? Hm. An eager black hole.
(DANIEL) Oh God.
(ARMAND) I’ll keep digging. But I’m… Not hopeful there’s much more to you, Daniel, other than a hole.
(ARMAND) In retrospect, the buffoon was in the audience scribbling in the margins, oblivious to the conspiracy uniting around him.
(DANIEL) Really?
(ARMAND) Yes.