Daniel's confident gaze shifts almost immediately to one of determined interest, and instead of leaning back he straightens himself, hand twitching as he instinctually reaches for a pen that isn't there. For someone like like him when it comes between heroin or writing, it's a rough choice on which one gets him off more. He feels a familiar spike of something similar to adrenaline surge through him. An opening.

"Daniel Molloy. Pleasure," he greets, carefully deadpan but still very much engaged. He can learn more. Understand more. Write more. He can convince Lestat to give what Louis couldn't give him. The crowded bar doesn't seem as stuffy as it did before.

"Is it your good eyes or keen senses that linked Louis and I together?" He puts a cigarette between his lips, reaching for his lighter.