Inside the coffin, too, are his headphones and his phone. Lestat fishes these out, sets them aside. The interior is pillowy satin of cream-white, frills and an excess of softness and comfort, so much like his old sleeping place that he'd invited Louis into time and time again.

Turns back to Louis. Meeting that look with one of his own, arms folding across his chest.

"Will you promise me," he says, in that silent invitation, "to arrange for your coffin to be brought here tomorrow night?"