Louis and Daniel hold hands and Lestat doesn't vibrate himself into a million pieces.

Or anything. His grasp on the back of the armchair anchors him in place, and he tries out the thought that it will be okay, as Daniel said. It will be okay even if Louis pivots and returns to his room as soon as he has made sure Daniel is away to coffin. It will be okay if he stays and they exchange niceties, or they fight again, or Louis patiently untangles a remorseful Frenchman clinging to his legs. It will be, because anything is more okay than the nothing he has endured.

Manages a blink, a glance in return to Daniel. A tight smile. He is chill.

"Bonne nuit," soft-spoken. He has never yelled at anyone in his life.