And he'll take it. Lestat draws shallow from his cigarette, barely letting it graze his lungs before releasing smoke out into the air. A look swung back to the television, the flattened artifice of modern human experience.
He has wondered before, and wonders again now, what it's like to be mortal. Why they all waste time like they aren't. If he knew his death was a handful of decades away, would he have fucked around so much trying to be respectful, saying nothing, enduring all? Perhaps yes, he was left to rot in New Orleans, but he would still be there, it's true, if he thought Louis preferred him there.
A sigh. "It injures you, that I am hurt," he says. "Do you imagine the same cannot be said, the other way around?"
no subject
And he'll take it. Lestat draws shallow from his cigarette, barely letting it graze his lungs before releasing smoke out into the air. A look swung back to the television, the flattened artifice of modern human experience.
He has wondered before, and wonders again now, what it's like to be mortal. Why they all waste time like they aren't. If he knew his death was a handful of decades away, would he have fucked around so much trying to be respectful, saying nothing, enduring all? Perhaps yes, he was left to rot in New Orleans, but he would still be there, it's true, if he thought Louis preferred him there.
A sigh. "It injures you, that I am hurt," he says. "Do you imagine the same cannot be said, the other way around?"