Standing and ready to wind his way to the stage, but first—
Lestat uses his free, non-cocktail wielding hand to gently take Louis' chin and plant a kiss on his cheek, both showing off as well as tender. "Oui, mon chevalier," sounds as dramatic and sincere as anything he might say, just as the gesture itself is as absurd as it is sweet.
And his name is called. The DJ has likely read out weirder than 'The Vampire Lestat', and does so without flinching. A wink to Jeannie, and then he is on his way.
Prowling up onto the stage, Lestat takes a sip of the terrible cocktail he has been given before ducking to the mic to say, "Bonsoir Burlington," and then, voice pitched lower, "Hello, front table," which gets a louder cheer than the random whoop he got first. By now, there should be music playing, but the DJ presiding over the music has gone a little glassy eyed and lost, sitting slackly.
Mic taken up out of the stand, Lestat holding his drink aside. "I have never sang karaoke," he tells the venue as he does so. "And I have been informed we can only perform a single song at a time. But if it is worth doing once, it is worth doing the most. You," pointing to a beer-flushed face in the immediate front. "What song should be sung?"
The suggestion of Free Bird is immediate, echoed by someone else, and Lestat tips his head back dramatically and with enough exaggeration to inspire some laughs, then flicks his hand, points to someone else. "You, same question."
This time, the offer is Like A Prayer, which gets a hum of satisfaction from Lestat before casing out to the venue, "More, now," as he drinks. Someone just shouts Metallica, perhaps not understanding the assignment. Other titles drift by, Paradise City, Single Ladies, Total Eclipse of the Heart.
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Lestat uses his free, non-cocktail wielding hand to gently take Louis' chin and plant a kiss on his cheek, both showing off as well as tender. "Oui, mon chevalier," sounds as dramatic and sincere as anything he might say, just as the gesture itself is as absurd as it is sweet.
And his name is called. The DJ has likely read out weirder than 'The Vampire Lestat', and does so without flinching. A wink to Jeannie, and then he is on his way.
Prowling up onto the stage, Lestat takes a sip of the terrible cocktail he has been given before ducking to the mic to say, "Bonsoir Burlington," and then, voice pitched lower, "Hello, front table," which gets a louder cheer than the random whoop he got first. By now, there should be music playing, but the DJ presiding over the music has gone a little glassy eyed and lost, sitting slackly.
Mic taken up out of the stand, Lestat holding his drink aside. "I have never sang karaoke," he tells the venue as he does so. "And I have been informed we can only perform a single song at a time. But if it is worth doing once, it is worth doing the most. You," pointing to a beer-flushed face in the immediate front. "What song should be sung?"
The suggestion of Free Bird is immediate, echoed by someone else, and Lestat tips his head back dramatically and with enough exaggeration to inspire some laughs, then flicks his hand, points to someone else. "You, same question."
This time, the offer is Like A Prayer, which gets a hum of satisfaction from Lestat before casing out to the venue, "More, now," as he drinks. Someone just shouts Metallica, perhaps not understanding the assignment. Other titles drift by, Paradise City, Single Ladies, Total Eclipse of the Heart.
"Back table?" Lestat prompts.