"Bien."

To himself, Lestat smiles. A beatific kind of grin. How good, to call Louis down from his tower, to be so irresistibly charming? And not have to resort to plan B, which was tearfully and angrily begging Louis to stop being so brave and annoying and far away. And whatever occurs after the end of Daniel's tour—

Ah, well.

"There was a busker," he says, "who had a little amplifier and a guitar and a microphone on a street corner. I don't even remember the song anymore, you know."

Is he crying again? Jesus. Even by Lestat's standards, that's a lot. But maybe this new world could stand to be less overwhelming and beautiful and frightening, and he'll get over it better. Anyway, he palms tears away like they're annoying, and continues.

"But she was very talented. It was like listening to someone break their heart for pennies, over and over, and nearly everyone walked by without stopping. I don't remember that kind of beauty just being everywhere."

And in summary, "I would like it if you were around."