This correction has its effect, Lestat allowing further misgivings to release, dissolve. Perhaps they will resolve again when the sun sets, but for now, allows it to make him feel a little better about things. His assistance welcomed. His presence given meaning.

And he thinks, too, of Louis drawing a blade to his brother's breastbone. Of an alderman torn so gruesomely that his admiration for the deed had outweighed the usual preoccupation with maintaining their discretion. Of the bits and pieces of people that they'd decorated their home with in their final night spent there.

Louis and his capacity for ferocious anger, a willingness to resort to violence, ruthlessness. The things Lestat had imagined would make Louis a good vampire for him to spend eternity with.

"Mmhm. Do you enjoy it?" A cheeky question, maybe. The hand resting on Louis' chest curls, taps a finger. "Just a little bit."

Near whispered, like Louis can tell Lestat, just for Lestat. This is a safe space, here.