"Bonsoir or bonjour," he says, and his lack of an accent should cause some people psychic damage. "It's sort of both, it's morning in Dubai." This latter bit to Lestat, though again, the mental echo, which should clue Louis in to him speaking to someone who Knows, capital K.
If the bad French didn't blow it. But having been in the fucking room when—
Well, he's not going to not pass things on, is all.
«If you mean visitor like fuckheads mad about the book, I've had one, too. Your ex saved my ass. If I tell him you had one, is he going to freak out?»
"He's asking how the tour is going," he says to Lestat. Oh christ, this is going to be such a pain. Daniel feels a hysteria bubble build up, but he refuses to laugh. He blinks at the elder vampire, letting him feel his impression of Louis, hanging out in his fancy penthouse, which Daniel has been inside.
The corpse oozing the last of its blood at their feet is unceremoniously shoved aside with the side of Lestat's boot so that he may stand a little closer. Absorb the little fragments, a flicker of recognition for Daniel allowing them to be projected back to him.
His smile flickers. The clutch to Daniel's jacket lapel isn't going anywhere. Good. Louis is well. If he wasn't well, he wouldn't be lounging about and asking about tours.
It takes some of the heat off, enough that there's a momentary break in Lestat attempting to climb into the conversation. The trade off is his bright eyed study of Daniel's face as well as his thoughts, gleaning what he can.
Seeking particular affirmation as he catalogs the rest. Daniel has weathered at least one attack, and is well. Had felt well, when Louis' touched his mind.
I think he would be unhappy to hear it, is true, assuming Lestat is the ex in question. Louis has the sense that Armand would be more direct, had he surfaced. That Daniel would have told him.
The ease has gone from Louis' voice. His hand sets onto the table, waves away New Rashid with his cup of warmed blood.
'Your ex' is definitely Lestat. Armand is in his own category, currently too far in the doghouse to be elevated to that illustrious level. My maker, spat out like a swear word that would banned even in Australia. No. He means blondie, for sure, and to convey this—
Daniel puts a hand on Lestat's shoulder to steady himself while his gaze goes too sharp then unfocused, pupils encroaching outward until his eyes are slivers of blue-violet. Letting Louis see the man stood before him, and then, sharing with the clumsy fumbling of somebody who's had about five minutes worth of practice at all this, the circumstances of their meeting. Daniel off down an alley after a would-be-victim, getting jumped, then a violent flash of heroism from none other than
this ridiculous asshole, sitting in a car while he smokes, laughing.
"He says hi."
To them both. Neither of them have said hi. That's fine. Daniel blinks rapidly as he pulls his consciousness back, and adds for Louis, «Not quite a week. I was going to loop you in when I heard back from my phone guy.»
Lestat's head tips to the side, momentarily diverted from his current number one priority (which is a klaxxon blaring in his skull to the tune of Louis' name) to watch that curious transition of colour in Daniel's eyes. Senses it, what he is doing.
He says hi.
"Hi," Lestat says, and brings a hand up to smear aside at least some the blood covering the lower half of his face. To Lestat's credit, he is a sight better than when Louis found him, if only from the focus in his expression more so than being particularly kempt.
And he can tell, too, they're saying more things than what is being shared. Of course, of course. An impatient head wobble.
"Are you telling him about the attack? You should. He should be wary."
We'll practice that, when I see you next, is a retreat of sorts, a little distance from the flush of emotion at seeing Lestat's face. From the confusion of seeing that face through Daniel, the revelation of a week's travel.
I'm sorry you beat me to the introduction, Louis says, though that sense of distance remains. Thaws a little as he presses, How is he? How are you?
Maybe tacit acknowledgement that Lestat in his present state is not the easiest person to travel alongside.
A sharp disorienting flinch, Daniel squeezes his eyes shut and presses at the side of his head.
"Louis is okay, he wants to know how you are, but look, we're going to get this cleaned up," you know, the dead body they ate, "and we're going back so we can use my actual phone—"
Daniel allows Louis to eavesdrop on this fussing. He doesn't have his cell with him, because he's not dumb enough to bring it along on a murder even turned off, so they have to go back to the goddamn hotel. Don't look at him like that!! This is giving him a migraine.
Lestat opens his mouth to inform Louis by way of Daniel how he is, which will all be true information, but then, We're going to get this cleaned up, and Lestat lists into the wall beside him as if wounded.
But, alright, a phone. Alright, he will stay and chat. Daniel promises.
"Tell him I love him," is quick and insistent, levering himself back up and looking down at the dead man. Crouching down to go pick him up like a sack full of straw. That he treats this as a goodbye, that he does not press Daniel to the wall until he is very certain that Daniel will assure him that Louis sends back the sentiment—
Well, he is being responsible. There's a dead body to clean up. His mood has already lifted. Why ruin it?
I hear that, Louis affirms. Provides a further assurance of, I'll be awake. I'll wait for you.
For Daniel, who responsibly has a cell phone.
Perhaps Daniel hears the tail end of Louis' voice fading, a murmur that sounds like: Rashid, I'll need the phone brought in—
Whatever occurs in the course of cleaning up, and relocating, well, it is surely a little more taxing than Louis' task of setting aside a report on the authenticity of a painting in Sweden and lifting an iPhone with his own two hands for once when it finally rings.
"He says he loves you," Daniel relays, both because, again, he is not going to not pass shit on thanks to Very Traumatic Experiences, and also because there's no harm in doing so in this particularly grating tone of Cool Dad Voice. He does not particularly want to hound Louis, but hopefully Louis understands that Daniel is picking his battles, here.
The comedy of corpse-shuffling background noise continues through a cab ride (you can still get those without phones even in the post-Covid world, believe it or not), and then, finally, FINALLY,
"Hey! You're on speaker, obviously. What's up, Louis?"
Of course Daniel also has Louis' direct phone number, of course Lestat didn't think to ask; Louis is in Daniel's phone as LDPDL 📷✨, and there is a text history of short exchanges and photos of interesting night-time architecture. I am godmoding this and you are powerless to stop me.
The energy has calmed down after the necessary time spent on corpse-hiding, the ride back to the hotel, and the promise of direct access. (Lestat can't be blamed for his lack of cellphone when the one he was given didn't work as it should. Or didn't appear to. Certainly doesn't now, wherever it was abandoned in New Orleans.) He sits leaned forwards, his focus on the device.
"Bonsoir, mon cher," is as soft and dreamy as it always was, despite the amount of time it's been, despite the medium, despite Molloy's presence. Despite the book.
Or maybe a little bit because of Molloy's presence, because of the book. "Are we keeping you up?"
A strange overlap of voices, and the way he feels his heart lurch at Lestat's, the way his smile widens slightly at Daniel's.
"Hello, Lestat," a warm dip in tone that Louis is more conscious of, considering Daniel's presence on the line. "Hello, Daniel. It's only a few hours past dawn. I don't mind."
To say nothing of time spent awake while entertaining Daniel, before Daniel became a more nocturnal creature.
Louis rises from his seat, treading towards the windows as he asks, "And you two have been busy, I believe."
Something? It's inelegant. A monosyllabic mental sound that serves as a psychic squeeze to his shoulder that's meant to be supportive, and honestly, is probably as much bracing for Daniel as it is the other man. He didn't want to hide this from Louis, he just didn't know how to bring it up. He really was going to loop him in, and had hoped by then (tomorrow, maybe) that he'd have found a way to open that wasn't 'Okay before I tell you, you have to promise not to be mad.'
"Yeah, I got jumped," he says aloud. "Lestat showed up just in time. One that went down, dunno what became of him decisively but maybe dead, and a woman, Germanic-sounding, who fucked off. I got a phone off the male, and sent it in to be cloned and opened up. I should hear back about it tomorrow or the next night."
Lestat showed up just in time. He likes how that sounds, properly heroic, a flick of a glance to Daniel before setting his eyeline down on the phone again, as if this would be able to provide him with information.
No one tell him about video functionality.
Are they allowed to smoke in this hotel room? Lestat is retrieving his cigarettes regardless, hands going through the elegant motions of lighting up, a flicker of the fire gift lashing across the end. At that question, his smile twists wry, and he adds, "Being provocative, I've heard."
"I've extended an invitation to those who object to my collaboration with Daniel," Louis corrects, a precursor to the answer: "I had the pleasure of entertaining one of my detractors this evening."
How is he?
Oddly unsettled by the thought of the two of them in a room. The phone is a miracle of technology, but it is inadequate in this moment.
Louis turns from the skyline, the slants of sunlight, to look around once more. The new furniture, plush yellow upholsery, the flowering plant blooming on the table. The progress made in reorienting his home, reminding himself that he lives here.
Daniel and Lestat feel very far from this room.
"I'm unharmed," is the answer. "It was a short conversation."
Daniel raises his eyebrows, staring at the phone he's holding horizontal in his hand, as Lestat goes to violate the terms of the suite. (It's fine. Daniel has money now.) Louis breaking the news himself will help, hopefully.
A light speed snatching that might have caused some friction burn, and fine ash scatters into the air from the sudden displacement of Lestat, smoking his cigarette and sitting across the room to Lestat now right here, device stolen.
"Who?" is the first thing that manages to skip the queue of things he wants to say. Paces some strides away in case Daniel gets big ideas about whose phone this is. "Are they dead? Are you alright?"
Louis had answered that, yes, but maybe he's lying, and will now say the truth.
"What the fuck is the use of a private skyscraper in Dubai," an infinity away from him, Lestat, who saves people in the nick of time, c'est ridicule, "if you are telling everyone where you are?"
While Louis has grown adept at intuiting Daniel's questions, it turns out he needs more than a single word to operate from.
Lestat's voice, suddenly closer, louder. A rapid patter of questions that Louis absorbs, one hand settling across his chest, the other keeping the phone lifted to his mouth.
"They're sealed in a coffin, soon to be returned to whichever master they serve," Louis offers, submitting to the demand for information without objection. "I'm unharmed. As I said, it was a short conversation."
Rashid is overseeing the removal of a great deal of blood splatter in the hallway as they speak. It is hardly worth commentary.
"I prefer to invite the attention. I am well placed to receive our critics, while Daniel is touring."
Louis is older. He has been drinking from Armand for years. And he is responsible. Louis is the one who talked.
Clear and firm. Serious. Louis will be able to hear him through the phone, hear him in his head. Important to declare this, as 1) it is the truth and 2) he's not entirely sure about his continued safety if Lestat decides this means Daniel is at fault.
"In fact, I told you I was worried about you, and that I thought you should move. You said bye, and then like, thirty fucking seconds later, it was 'Fight Club at my exact address'."
His kids have done stuff like that before. Tantrums. Louis.
"Hey but— you should interrogate that guy, first."
The moment Daniel speaks up, fast, is punctuated with the remarkably elegant pivot of Lestat turning back to look at him. As if to ask, has he been in the wrong place, Daniel? But if he is asking that, if he had been, then this hasty amendment does something to convince Lestat that he would be the wrong man to ask.
Absorbs the rest. Takes a drag of his cigarette, and then sweeps a hand, like, exactly! at Daniel's question.
"And then also," with the kind of sarcasm that inserts a if I may provide some feedback,, "kill him, Louis. What are you worried for, that they will sentence you to a more concentrated death than the one they wish upon you now?"
"I thought I might make a more compelling point were I to return him to sender in his present condition."
Though Louis had killed nearly an entire coven. (Sam, a DJ. An agent of the Talamasca. Armand, roaming somewhere, silent.) What's one more added to the list of his transgressions?
"I'm not afraid," gently, as Louis pads away from the windows, through the hallways of his home. "Not for myself. I would like to know that you are taking some precautions on this tour, assuming Lestat doesn't intend to accompany you for the entirety of it."
Louis has tried not to press Lestat. Not to trap him into some kind of explanation as to his plans, his intentions. He had expressed a preference for the states. Louis has not pushed the matter further.
"Killing is at your discretion," is Daniel's vote. Hands in air in an 'I surrender' gesture. He does sort of agree with Lestat, but a murder morals argument breaking out right now is not a good use of their time. "It'd just be nice to know."
(Armand had sent him a message via a meal. Still slightly panicking about it. Is there anything for Louis to sift out of this guy? Don't think about it. Don't. Stop. Let them suggest that, just shut up.)
"I can hire security, if it'll make you feel better. Lestat is, obviously, not obligated to hover. But, look, Louis, if we can get an idea of who might be coming, that would be the most proactive, safe thing to do. Instead of relying on tripped alarms and luck."
But I am afraid, Lestat might have said, if Molloy were not seated here, if their conversation did not momentarily close the loop between them despite his possession of the phone. Unhappiness in his expression, occupying that beat of time to bring cigarette back up to his mouth.
And then a swerve of his focus, back to Daniel. Needle sharp. Like maybe he overheard something he wasn't meant to.
Smoke releases between his teeth as he says to him, "I am heading to New York. I have a meeting." New information to Louis but also Daniel, given the haphazard nature of this journey, the lack of urgency on Lestat's part. Case in point, he adds, "But I can go the long way."
A half-second pause, contemplation of what sort of meeting. Financial? Perhaps so. Lestat cannot have been tending overmuch to his accounts in the past years, and Louis doubts the millenial would have prompted him.
"I'd be grateful," comes across the line, a softening of tone. Lestat will do as he pleases. It is something, if he chooses to curb that enough to trail after Daniel.
But to Daniel's concerns:
"There are many of them, Daniel. A great many vampires are very displeased with me, for speaking to you," Louis says this calmly, treading across bare floors. Claudia's dress comes into view. Paul's portrait. Green vines climbing across smooth walls. "I will acquire a name, if you like. But I believe it will be identifying one threat from the many."
Is it meant as a comfort, when Louis adds: "I believe them to be unified only in their desire for my death. I've heard them squabble over the rest."
(He's thinking about how good Louis is at mind reading, but he used it to HURT DANIEL'S FEELINGS maybe he's raw about bringing it up, don't worry about it!! jangles car keys look how cool Louis is)
"The more the merrier."
God, a meeting. If he was serious, then a talent agent, maybe. Great. Let a lawyer teach him how to use a phone. He wonders how much interest Lestat's gained on his ancient French Scrooge McDuck vault.
"You're probably right, but it'd still be nice to know. And if there is a quieter, coordinated effort, from people who aren't dumb enough to brain-chatter about it so loudly, the more information we have, the better."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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If the bad French didn't blow it. But having been in the fucking room when—
Well, he's not going to not pass things on, is all.
«If you mean visitor like fuckheads mad about the book, I've had one, too. Your ex saved my ass. If I tell him you had one, is he going to freak out?»
"He's asking how the tour is going," he says to Lestat. Oh christ, this is going to be such a pain. Daniel feels a hysteria bubble build up, but he refuses to laugh. He blinks at the elder vampire, letting him feel his impression of Louis, hanging out in his fancy penthouse, which Daniel has been inside.
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His smile flickers. The clutch to Daniel's jacket lapel isn't going anywhere. Good. Louis is well. If he wasn't well, he wouldn't be lounging about and asking about tours.
It takes some of the heat off, enough that there's a momentary break in Lestat attempting to climb into the conversation. The trade off is his bright eyed study of Daniel's face as well as his thoughts, gleaning what he can.
Almost. "Did he say anything to me?"
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Lestat?
Seeking particular affirmation as he catalogs the rest. Daniel has weathered at least one attack, and is well. Had felt well, when Louis' touched his mind.
I think he would be unhappy to hear it, is true, assuming Lestat is the ex in question. Louis has the sense that Armand would be more direct, had he surfaced. That Daniel would have told him.
The ease has gone from Louis' voice. His hand sets onto the table, waves away New Rashid with his cup of warmed blood.
How long has he been in your company?
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Daniel puts a hand on Lestat's shoulder to steady himself while his gaze goes too sharp then unfocused, pupils encroaching outward until his eyes are slivers of blue-violet. Letting Louis see the man stood before him, and then, sharing with the clumsy fumbling of somebody who's had about five minutes worth of practice at all this, the circumstances of their meeting. Daniel off down an alley after a would-be-victim, getting jumped, then a violent flash of heroism from none other than
this ridiculous asshole, sitting in a car while he smokes, laughing.
"He says hi."
To them both. Neither of them have said hi. That's fine. Daniel blinks rapidly as he pulls his consciousness back, and adds for Louis, «Not quite a week. I was going to loop you in when I heard back from my phone guy.»
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He says hi.
"Hi," Lestat says, and brings a hand up to smear aside at least some the blood covering the lower half of his face. To Lestat's credit, he is a sight better than when Louis found him, if only from the focus in his expression more so than being particularly kempt.
And he can tell, too, they're saying more things than what is being shared. Of course, of course. An impatient head wobble.
"Are you telling him about the attack? You should. He should be wary."
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I'm sorry you beat me to the introduction, Louis says, though that sense of distance remains. Thaws a little as he presses, How is he? How are you?
Maybe tacit acknowledgement that Lestat in his present state is not the easiest person to travel alongside.
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A sharp disorienting flinch, Daniel squeezes his eyes shut and presses at the side of his head.
"Louis is okay, he wants to know how you are, but look, we're going to get this cleaned up," you know, the dead body they ate, "and we're going back so we can use my actual phone—"
Daniel allows Louis to eavesdrop on this fussing. He doesn't have his cell with him, because he's not dumb enough to bring it along on a murder even turned off, so they have to go back to the goddamn hotel. Don't look at him like that!! This is giving him a migraine.
"He'll stay and chat, I promise."
«You hear that?»
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But, alright, a phone. Alright, he will stay and chat. Daniel promises.
"Tell him I love him," is quick and insistent, levering himself back up and looking down at the dead man. Crouching down to go pick him up like a sack full of straw. That he treats this as a goodbye, that he does not press Daniel to the wall until he is very certain that Daniel will assure him that Louis sends back the sentiment—
Well, he is being responsible. There's a dead body to clean up. His mood has already lifted. Why ruin it?
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For Daniel, who responsibly has a cell phone.
Perhaps Daniel hears the tail end of Louis' voice fading, a murmur that sounds like: Rashid, I'll need the phone brought in—
Whatever occurs in the course of cleaning up, and relocating, well, it is surely a little more taxing than Louis' task of setting aside a report on the authenticity of a painting in Sweden and lifting an iPhone with his own two hands for once when it finally rings.
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The comedy of corpse-shuffling background noise continues through a cab ride (you can still get those without phones even in the post-Covid world, believe it or not), and then, finally, FINALLY,
"Hey! You're on speaker, obviously. What's up, Louis?"
Of course Daniel also has Louis' direct phone number, of course Lestat didn't think to ask; Louis is in Daniel's phone as LDPDL 📷✨, and there is a text history of short exchanges and photos of interesting night-time architecture. I am godmoding this and you are powerless to stop me.
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"Bonsoir, mon cher," is as soft and dreamy as it always was, despite the amount of time it's been, despite the medium, despite Molloy's presence. Despite the book.
Or maybe a little bit because of Molloy's presence, because of the book. "Are we keeping you up?"
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A strange overlap of voices, and the way he feels his heart lurch at Lestat's, the way his smile widens slightly at Daniel's.
"Hello, Lestat," a warm dip in tone that Louis is more conscious of, considering Daniel's presence on the line. "Hello, Daniel. It's only a few hours past dawn. I don't mind."
To say nothing of time spent awake while entertaining Daniel, before Daniel became a more nocturnal creature.
Louis rises from his seat, treading towards the windows as he asks, "And you two have been busy, I believe."
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Something? It's inelegant. A monosyllabic mental sound that serves as a psychic squeeze to his shoulder that's meant to be supportive, and honestly, is probably as much bracing for Daniel as it is the other man. He didn't want to hide this from Louis, he just didn't know how to bring it up. He really was going to loop him in, and had hoped by then (tomorrow, maybe) that he'd have found a way to open that wasn't 'Okay before I tell you, you have to promise not to be mad.'
"Yeah, I got jumped," he says aloud. "Lestat showed up just in time. One that went down, dunno what became of him decisively but maybe dead, and a woman, Germanic-sounding, who fucked off. I got a phone off the male, and sent it in to be cloned and opened up. I should hear back about it tomorrow or the next night."
A neat summary, he thinks. All caught up.
"How are you?"
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No one tell him about video functionality.
Are they allowed to smoke in this hotel room? Lestat is retrieving his cigarettes regardless, hands going through the elegant motions of lighting up, a flicker of the fire gift lashing across the end. At that question, his smile twists wry, and he adds, "Being provocative, I've heard."
Secondhand, obviously.
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How is he?
Oddly unsettled by the thought of the two of them in a room. The phone is a miracle of technology, but it is inadequate in this moment.
Louis turns from the skyline, the slants of sunlight, to look around once more. The new furniture, plush yellow upholsery, the flowering plant blooming on the table. The progress made in reorienting his home, reminding himself that he lives here.
Daniel and Lestat feel very far from this room.
"I'm unharmed," is the answer. "It was a short conversation."
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"Are—"
Hey where the fuck did his pHONE GO??
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A light speed snatching that might have caused some friction burn, and fine ash scatters into the air from the sudden displacement of Lestat, smoking his cigarette and sitting across the room to Lestat now right here, device stolen.
"Who?" is the first thing that manages to skip the queue of things he wants to say. Paces some strides away in case Daniel gets big ideas about whose phone this is. "Are they dead? Are you alright?"
Louis had answered that, yes, but maybe he's lying, and will now say the truth.
"What the fuck is the use of a private skyscraper in Dubai," an infinity away from him, Lestat, who saves people in the nick of time, c'est ridicule, "if you are telling everyone where you are?"
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Lestat's voice, suddenly closer, louder. A rapid patter of questions that Louis absorbs, one hand settling across his chest, the other keeping the phone lifted to his mouth.
"They're sealed in a coffin, soon to be returned to whichever master they serve," Louis offers, submitting to the demand for information without objection. "I'm unharmed. As I said, it was a short conversation."
Rashid is overseeing the removal of a great deal of blood splatter in the hallway as they speak. It is hardly worth commentary.
"I prefer to invite the attention. I am well placed to receive our critics, while Daniel is touring."
Louis is older. He has been drinking from Armand for years. And he is responsible. Louis is the one who talked.
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Clear and firm. Serious. Louis will be able to hear him through the phone, hear him in his head. Important to declare this, as 1) it is the truth and 2) he's not entirely sure about his continued safety if Lestat decides this means Daniel is at fault.
"In fact, I told you I was worried about you, and that I thought you should move. You said bye, and then like, thirty fucking seconds later, it was 'Fight Club at my exact address'."
His kids have done stuff like that before. Tantrums. Louis.
"Hey but— you should interrogate that guy, first."
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Absorbs the rest. Takes a drag of his cigarette, and then sweeps a hand, like, exactly! at Daniel's question.
"And then also," with the kind of sarcasm that inserts a if I may provide some feedback,, "kill him, Louis. What are you worried for, that they will sentence you to a more concentrated death than the one they wish upon you now?"
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Though Louis had killed nearly an entire coven. (Sam, a DJ. An agent of the Talamasca. Armand, roaming somewhere, silent.) What's one more added to the list of his transgressions?
"I'm not afraid," gently, as Louis pads away from the windows, through the hallways of his home. "Not for myself. I would like to know that you are taking some precautions on this tour, assuming Lestat doesn't intend to accompany you for the entirety of it."
Louis has tried not to press Lestat. Not to trap him into some kind of explanation as to his plans, his intentions. He had expressed a preference for the states. Louis has not pushed the matter further.
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(Armand had sent him a message via a meal. Still slightly panicking about it. Is there anything for Louis to sift out of this guy? Don't think about it. Don't. Stop. Let them suggest that, just shut up.)
"I can hire security, if it'll make you feel better. Lestat is, obviously, not obligated to hover. But, look, Louis, if we can get an idea of who might be coming, that would be the most proactive, safe thing to do. Instead of relying on tripped alarms and luck."
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And then a swerve of his focus, back to Daniel. Needle sharp. Like maybe he overheard something he wasn't meant to.
Smoke releases between his teeth as he says to him, "I am heading to New York. I have a meeting." New information to Louis but also Daniel, given the haphazard nature of this journey, the lack of urgency on Lestat's part. Case in point, he adds, "But I can go the long way."
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A half-second pause, contemplation of what sort of meeting. Financial? Perhaps so. Lestat cannot have been tending overmuch to his accounts in the past years, and Louis doubts the millenial would have prompted him.
"I'd be grateful," comes across the line, a softening of tone. Lestat will do as he pleases. It is something, if he chooses to curb that enough to trail after Daniel.
But to Daniel's concerns:
"There are many of them, Daniel. A great many vampires are very displeased with me, for speaking to you," Louis says this calmly, treading across bare floors. Claudia's dress comes into view. Paul's portrait. Green vines climbing across smooth walls. "I will acquire a name, if you like. But I believe it will be identifying one threat from the many."
Is it meant as a comfort, when Louis adds: "I believe them to be unified only in their desire for my death. I've heard them squabble over the rest."
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"The more the merrier."
God, a meeting. If he was serious, then a talent agent, maybe. Great. Let a lawyer teach him how to use a phone. He wonders how much interest Lestat's gained on his ancient French Scrooge McDuck vault.
"You're probably right, but it'd still be nice to know. And if there is a quieter, coordinated effort, from people who aren't dumb enough to brain-chatter about it so loudly, the more information we have, the better."
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