A little patter of Lestat's fingers on Daniel's crown, Louis' chin, thinking, before he ducks into an elegant crouch before them. When he decided to go out in quasi-drag tonight, he did not predict he would be playing mother at some point. May as well commit.
"His little marionette was here," he says. "And he rode along. Like a flea. A tapeworm. A blood-sucking tic." Mixing metaphors, but how can he resist.
Keeping half a sense of what Daniel's mind is doing, like a finger on a pulse, measuring. Nothing more than just being injured, he thinks. Well, 'just'. The brain is a vital kind of organ to be made into tatters. Another, less committed tendril of awareness tracks the progress of Rachida, tamping down fear and putting through calls, and the way the staff of the hotel begin to configure themselves under her direction. Locking down. She is wondering if she needs to tend to Mr. du Lac directly. He flicks a thought at her that it isn't necessary at the moment, and withdraws from that direction.
"I am sure he is terribly jealous of anyone's ability to monitor his fledgling's mind, and built a little theatre to try it for himself." Lestat's hand at Louis' knee, stroking his thumb along the curve of his kneecap. "I assume you got in his way, mon cher."
And Lestat had told him to, without thinking. This inspires less guilt than it does irritation, that will ferment into something more.
"Will you tell me what he did then?"
He is not quite certain, having distracted himself—did Armand fire a nuke into Daniel's brain by way of Roy Travis? Lestat is certain he would have felt it if he had, and he isn't even sure it's possible. The thing he knows Armand did is, in itself, an improbability.
no subject
"His little marionette was here," he says. "And he rode along. Like a flea. A tapeworm. A blood-sucking tic." Mixing metaphors, but how can he resist.
Keeping half a sense of what Daniel's mind is doing, like a finger on a pulse, measuring. Nothing more than just being injured, he thinks. Well, 'just'. The brain is a vital kind of organ to be made into tatters. Another, less committed tendril of awareness tracks the progress of Rachida, tamping down fear and putting through calls, and the way the staff of the hotel begin to configure themselves under her direction. Locking down. She is wondering if she needs to tend to Mr. du Lac directly. He flicks a thought at her that it isn't necessary at the moment, and withdraws from that direction.
"I am sure he is terribly jealous of anyone's ability to monitor his fledgling's mind, and built a little theatre to try it for himself." Lestat's hand at Louis' knee, stroking his thumb along the curve of his kneecap. "I assume you got in his way, mon cher."
And Lestat had told him to, without thinking. This inspires less guilt than it does irritation, that will ferment into something more.
"Will you tell me what he did then?"
He is not quite certain, having distracted himself—did Armand fire a nuke into Daniel's brain by way of Roy Travis? Lestat is certain he would have felt it if he had, and he isn't even sure it's possible. The thing he knows Armand did is, in itself, an improbability.