A handshake to say hello, bookending with the one that had said goodbye, way out on the other side of the planet in a penthouse with Armand on the floor behind them. His grip is steadier now, no threats of a tremor, and his expression is unbearably affectionate instead of shell-shocked.

Glasses, still. Slightly tinted even though he's only been standing around with Lestat; he's gotten a few comments on them changing color, Tricks of the light, probably, he'll say to mortals. Who knows what that's about. But they're unearthly blue at this minute, darker and more saturated than they were.

'We made it.'

Privately. Hey, check it out. We fucking lived. And they aren't barred from each other's minds, no one was gored too badly in the process, and Louis can be here and smile like that and look a thousand times lighter.

"Oh, yeah. Nothing like the luxury of a slightly outdated Toyota. You'll have to hook me up with your fleet guy next time."