"Non," here, from the ground, a direct appeal now being made as he tips his head back to look up at Louis. Tear streaked and bruised and hair drying into disorder, a little wild eyed with naked desperation. "The gremlin can burn for the things he's done to you. If he could succumb to your fire, chéri—"
A shake of his head completes the sentiment. The gremlin would burn, it is that simple. Meanwhile, Lestat has half an instinct left not to cry more about the things he has seen, the things he knows.
One hand graduating up to find a handhold into Louis' shirt, a needful tug for attention. "You remember, the last time we saw one another in Paris," he says. "The better death, the greater suffering. If you live and are happy, if you find the ones you love and keep them with you, it is enough."
A tearful laugh, self-deprecating as he adds, "And you were so beautiful in New Orleans, speaking of the promise your future held. This can't be what you meant."
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A shake of his head completes the sentiment. The gremlin would burn, it is that simple. Meanwhile, Lestat has half an instinct left not to cry more about the things he has seen, the things he knows.
One hand graduating up to find a handhold into Louis' shirt, a needful tug for attention. "You remember, the last time we saw one another in Paris," he says. "The better death, the greater suffering. If you live and are happy, if you find the ones you love and keep them with you, it is enough."
A tearful laugh, self-deprecating as he adds, "And you were so beautiful in New Orleans, speaking of the promise your future held. This can't be what you meant."