I'm sorry we didn't, and there is a too-late flutter of Lestat's hand. A gesture that says don't or it's fine, indicating either way that he was not seeking apology—not from Daniel, who has already explained, and perhaps not exactly from Louis either, save that it would be better than a closed door.
That hand moves to rub at his face, a touch to some stress point in his brow before using his palm to smear aside tears.
"He is your maker," not quite a shrug in his voice. A big deal, yes, but a concrete reality. As he speaks about things that are not strictly about himself, there is room to get a still-shaky grip. "Forever, he will be that to you, and there will be no reprieve until the day he chooses the long sleep of the ancients."
Just as Louis has no real choice but to account for Lestat, but he twists away from this comparison even as he makes it, quietly, to himself.
"It's your fate to determine as you will. But if you wish to avail yourself of my assistance," a loose gesture between them finishes the thought. Here it will be.
no subject
That hand moves to rub at his face, a touch to some stress point in his brow before using his palm to smear aside tears.
"He is your maker," not quite a shrug in his voice. A big deal, yes, but a concrete reality. As he speaks about things that are not strictly about himself, there is room to get a still-shaky grip. "Forever, he will be that to you, and there will be no reprieve until the day he chooses the long sleep of the ancients."
Just as Louis has no real choice but to account for Lestat, but he twists away from this comparison even as he makes it, quietly, to himself.
"It's your fate to determine as you will. But if you wish to avail yourself of my assistance," a loose gesture between them finishes the thought. Here it will be.