Lestat bristles all over. Louis doesn't need to look at him to observe the shift. He is aware. He can feel it. He can also feel the weight of Lestat's eyes on him, the quality of restrain curbing the reaction.

The intake of breath is loud in the quiet. Louis' cigarette trails smoke through the air as Louis straightens. Uncoiling by degrees. Ankle hooked up over his knee returned to the floor. Posture corrected. Seated, still, as he turns over Daniel's query.

Nearly dead anyway. Words that hook like burrs, dig into his skin. Knowledge impossible to dislodge, made terrible when set alongside Lestat's earlier recounting.

Nearly dead.

"How would you like me to cope?"

Deceptively even-toned. Turning the cigarette in his fingers, before leaning forward to stub it out on a coaster.

"You made a demand of me, I agreed. What more do you want, Daniel?"