Lestat has not done so much imagining of what Louis and Armand were like together. As if Louis had disappeared into a void.
He has what the book has said, in its brief way ('weird and sad'). He has what he knows and remembers of Armand. He has that one dark spark burned in him from fifty years ago. He has what he sees in Louis now. But the particulars feel beyond him. He can't fathom a week with the gremlin, let alone eight long decades.
All the same. Instinct tugs at him. Formless. Nothing to be made of it.
"Imagine my surprise," he says, "to open a book and see black and grey photographs, credited to Louis de Pointe du Lac. You should have Daniel release a sequel that is them alone, for my viewing pleasure."
no subject
He has what the book has said, in its brief way ('weird and sad'). He has what he knows and remembers of Armand. He has that one dark spark burned in him from fifty years ago. He has what he sees in Louis now. But the particulars feel beyond him. He can't fathom a week with the gremlin, let alone eight long decades.
All the same. Instinct tugs at him. Formless. Nothing to be made of it.
"Imagine my surprise," he says, "to open a book and see black and grey photographs, credited to Louis de Pointe du Lac. You should have Daniel release a sequel that is them alone, for my viewing pleasure."
Less words to have to assimilate, for starters.
"Will you bring some?"