Dubai was so, so quiet. (Quiet for Louis, from his high perch.) New York is noise and life and movement. Louis does not hear the bottle. He sees Lestat's expression change, and something in his body comes alert, bright and hot, sharpening everything around them as Lestat's hand lifts.

Glass clatters to the rooftop. Catches in Louis' hair as he pivots, already in motion, moving towards the scrabbling sound of claws. A brief moment in time as Louis turns reveals bared fangs, the hiss of fury lost as he blurs across the space.

No need for anyone to exert themselves. Louis can so kindly assist with a hand up. Whether the limb remains attached after, however—