Somewhere in Manhattan, there is an up and coming lawyer who is trying to figure out whether vampires are real and one is in fact speaking to her in her brain at strange hours of night, instructing her towards the inherited portfolios of the old French firm and preparing them for his eventual arrival, or she's insane, and doesn't know which one she would prefer. The paperwork is shaking out, though.
Here, Lestat does not look overly assured for the news that the vampire world has found, at last, a commonality, and that is trying to kill Louis. They just made up, after all.
(Jingle-jangle? It's true, Louis is so cool.)
"You must entertain the idea that what you are hearing is what they desire you to hear, chéri. And it would be nothing at all for you to empty this one's mind of information before you send your message."
If he is two point four seconds away from flipping out, it's disguised in his voice, earnest appeal.
"I'll question him," Louis acquiesces. "Tomorrow evening, when he's better able to speak."
There are vampires much older, much more powerful than Louis. This hadn't been one of them. Louis sees no reason to elaborate beyond that, but he is compelled enough by the necessity of a more thorough interrogation.
Will this satisfy their collective curiosity? Lestat's, maybe. Daniel's, likely no.
"You're good at it," is encouraging. Supportive. Daniel worries about Louis more than he worries about himself. Being alone is fine. Being alone right now might not be fine, but only time will tell. "It doesn't have to be harmful. Just efficient."
You can mindfuck people!! Daniel has total faith.
"DC, then Boston, then home to New York. Toronto next month." A beat, then, because it's a painful offer, but a sincere one. Because he really does worry more about Louis' safety than his own. Not that Daniel is keen to die or sacrifice himself, but he's aware this is borrowed time. Party hours. "I can cancel any of them. All of them, if I have to. At this point, promotions are just a smug victory lap. Not that I don't enjoy it. Of fucking course I do. But you know what I mean. It's whatever, man, if it turns out it's way too dangerous for me or for you or both of us, that's the priority, right?"
Lestat has sunken back down to sit where he was before, Daniel's phone still in hand and held out to facilitate the conversation.
Something uniquely frustrating to be a participant in a conversation between the two people who engineered this particular crisis to begin with. To drag his name into it as well. Oh, part of him is thrilled by it, is tempted to cackle at the absurdity, see what part of the mess he can make bigger himself—
Then there's the other part, clinging to each measured word coming through the phone. Impenetrable glass. This part is sulking, mainly.
"I can come to Dubai," is probably not what Daniel was looking for. "If you're going to be stubborn, and despite how much I have going on."
Something self-aware in the midst of the scatteredness. He will only have something going on if he chooses to. Right now, nothing tethers him anywhere, save a special interest in keeping at least two vampires alive.
"You deserve your victory lap," to Daniel. "I don't have any desire for you to cut it short."
Daniel has declined Louis' apologies. He has taken the gift in stride. Louis refrains from saying, It's the least I can give you, for the inconvenience you've suffered.
"And you have a meeting," to Lestat. Reasonable, respectful, despite the part of him that would welcome Lestat in Dubai. "I wouldn't like you to miss it."
So perhaps yes, Louis intends to be stubborn. To relentlessly choose this controlled discord, instability after long stasis. To make himself the point of the spear as he shakes free of his isolation.
"I'm not defenseless," Louis reassures, a note of humor coloring his tone.
—Wry and warm? It's a gift. Nuked a coven, Scared even Armand off (people not polled in this assessment: Armand), once bit a hole through a 20 year old junkie's neck.
"So no big deal to hoover info out of some jerk's head. And we'll just, you know, keep behaving very normally over here. You want me to give him your number, or does he have labors to complete first?"
Louis can't see it, but he'll surely be able to imagine the way he's pointing at Lestat to indicate 'him'. A bit reckless to highlight that Lestat might be in the dog house, but we have fun here. Gives them something to argue over on the train ride to DC besides crossword puzzle clues.
What's worse: Daniel teasing him about his divorce, or Daniel thinking so fondly of Louis? In front of his salad?
Lestat purses his lips, and then tosses the phone back to Daniel, a fast frisbee of motion that takes a vampire not to fumble in the catching. He will have to decide how upset he is once Louis replies, and how. But for the record—
"Je n'ai pas de cellphone."
He doesn't have much of an excuse, if you think about it. Smartphones are more intuitive than a rotary dial and an army of switchboard operators and he had no difficulty in using this technology to try to crawl back into Louis' good graces. Fond memories.
A moment of contemplation, where Louis resists the urge to say: What happened to the one I left with you?
It's gone. The minutia of how it went missing is not going to change this. Louis had known for weeks it was a lost cause, defunct and written off and asking after it will change nothing.
And covered, perhaps, by the jostling movement on the other end of the line. Enough to prompt a more hasty interjection, hopefully a distraction as he offers:
"I'll have Rashid collect your appearance dates," since Louis is trying for hands off. Daniel has his tour. Lestat has his meeting. Louis can attend them from afar, at least until: "Perhaps I'll join you in New York, if it's not an imposition."
Where the imposition is less Louis and more the many vampires who would like to rip Louis to shreds.
Daniel's french vocabulary is bad, grammar worse, but he still knows that French people say 'portable', and for whatever reason, hearing Lestat say cellphone in that sentence is—
???
If he finds this guy charming it's the fucking end for him, of course he missed the evolution of tech slang in his mother country if he's been hiding in a basement in America for a century. Oh NO. The other vampire can probably even brain-sense the reason for Daniel's strange pause. Whatever, not correcting his French out loud (at least not... right now), but the face he pull is briefly absurd. Trying not to laugh at himself.
Anyway. Louis did not actually answer, and so, no phone commentary.
"You? Never." He grins. "When's the last time you've even been in the city? Not a real question, because I'm sure every gallery has new exhibits by now. It'll be great."
Very normal, nothing insane will happen. He's sure.
There is a whole jangle of things that could hit wrong. The psychic hiccup where he senses Daniel pausing over his incorrect French, Louis' absence of clear confirmation about whether he deserves his number because even though Louis did very much try to give him that thing already, there is no underestimating Lestat's ability to feel ignored or excluded, and speaking of, Louis has been to New York, has visited art, undoubtedly with Armand, and he wouldn't have thought to ask if Louis would like to see exhibits because he doesn't know save from a book what Louis has been up to—
Anyway. White noise. White noise dissolving into a whine at the back of his brain which quiets down because Louis wishes to come to New York to see him (and Daniel) and doesn't wish to impose on him (and Daniel).
The breakneck change from the beginnings of a tantrum to a fond smile is probably only assuring in a short term kind of way. He's still charming.
Daniel will text or telepathically ask, later, if the number is okay, or if he should gatekeep it and push his luck. But ideally he will live in a world where Lestat is trying to steal his phone all of the time. Also later, asking Louis Are you sure you're okay?, because so much of nearly eighty years has been centered around his rage at Lestat, as Daniel has been made painstakingly aware.
Not that he can blame him for wanting contact again, after what they figured out. (After what Daniel figured out, get fucked Armand.) It's a little worrying and makes the mess he's starting to see himself in feel weirder - the inescapable vampire bond, ever-looming, no matter what sins are committed. (Again: get fucked, Armand.)
"Where'd I put my fucking cigarettes, anyway."
He turns away, patting himself down. Here, he's a great guy, have a minute where he pretends he can't overhear you two.
Spikey edges softening, hackles down. Of course, when his own overwound stress of personal drama relaxes, it leaves behind the matter of the more concrete worry of Louis making himself the target of a vampire army, but Lestat can recognise this as an ongoing battle. And Louis has said he will come to America. It will do, for now.
He flicks a glance to Daniel, back down at the phone. "Yes," after a moment. "I will tell you. But I won't change anything. I will schedule for two meetings."
His diary is getting fuller and fuller. Ashes his cigarette into the struggling potted plant on the table at his elbow.
"Are you well? And not, I mean, unharmed from your recent accrochage."
A whisper in the back of Daniel's mind, warmth in the words: Thank you.
Louis owes Daniel quite a bit. It's a running tally now, with eternities of time to make good on it.
"I am unharmed," a reminder, just to be clear in case of any lingering concerns Lestat may be harboring. "And I'm alright. I've been finding my bearings."
How much does Lestat need to hear about Louis' efforts to disentangle his life from what he had shared with Armand?
"How are you?" Louis asks. This too, warm. Careful.
As in, not good that he is unharmed, and alright, although yes, that's good, great even. Good to be finding his bearings, more importantly. And Lestat adds, in answer to the question, "Finding my bearings as well," because it's true. Releasing himself into the modern world alongside taking the things Louis said to him that night and trying to fathom them, trying to understand how much they change things.
And then there's the book. A thus far largely untouched subject, but equally disorienting as the rest. Daniel has gotten off fairly lightly, as far as his involvement in its production goes. In its promotion. A joyride Lestat can hitch along on while he figures things out. (There are different ways to skin a cat, or punish the writer of all your transgressions.)
"Thinking of you. Have you been thinking of me?"
Unbidden, a memory, Armand telling him that Louis had been doing just that, the day he harmed himself. The twitch that flicks some hair from his face vanishes this conscious thought.
There is no one else who walks this earth that Louis trusts more. If they must be apart, with Lestat as unsteady as Louis had perceived him, there is no better person than Daniel to shepherd him through his re-emergence.
So it is absurd, to feel even a flicker of jealousy. Louis reminds himself of this, listening to Lestat's voice come through the speaker.
"Yes."
To the tune of of course.
"I bought a painting I think you'd like," Louis tells him. "I've had it hung in my guest room."
A presumption, isn't it? Or worse, a pressure.
Louis, companion enough for himself. Louis, who had not stayed in America. Louis, who needs this space, he knows, and yet—
If Lestat had any capacity for shame, he might experience a lick of it now at how pleased he sounds, particularly with Daniel several feet away from him, pretending not to listen. Like he could perhaps transmit himself through the phone instead of just his voice.
And then, a twinge of something rare: reservation. There are reasons they aren't in the same room, and it's not a simple matter of Louis' home being in Dubai, in Lestat lacking interest in leaving America. A hesitation in place of the natural instinct to insist himself.
Instead, "I shall have to see sometime," as he turns his cigarette he has neglected to pull from in the last minute. More wry humour, lightening, "I want to know what paintings I like."
What does reservation look like on Lestat de Lioncourt? Louis, miles and miles away in Dubai, cannot see it. Does not pry into Daniel's mind to view through him.
But Louis is aware of it. They have drawn such a balance between them. Extending past it is a delicate matter.
"When you've finished your meetings," Louis murmurs. "Perhaps then."
An invitation. Not prying. Inviting. Lestat will conduct his business. He will visit, if it pleases him.
All far in the future. Louis will be in America before anyone has to consider traveling to Dubai.
Lestat takes a last drag of his cigarette instead of answer that out loud, turning his head to unnecessarily watch himself stub out the cigarette into the dry dirt of the potted plant. Abandoning the butt there. These rooms could really use some ashtrays.
But no, he doesn't really want to distract himself. "Yes?" he says, at the sound of his name, queried. "I'm here."
Night and day, at least in the past twenty seconds, this version of himself—calmer, gentle, restrained—than most of what Daniel has been dealing with. Maybe it'll last.
The hand he has resting over his knee curls into a fist, the gentle pinprick of nails setting into his palm. A bruising amount of fondness.
"I will. And you will."
His goodbye, for now. And is it too late at night to purchase a cellphone? With Daniel's money? It's America, so possibly not, but who knows, not Lestat.
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Here, Lestat does not look overly assured for the news that the vampire world has found, at last, a commonality, and that is trying to kill Louis. They just made up, after all.
(Jingle-jangle? It's true, Louis is so cool.)
"You must entertain the idea that what you are hearing is what they desire you to hear, chéri. And it would be nothing at all for you to empty this one's mind of information before you send your message."
If he is two point four seconds away from flipping out, it's disguised in his voice, earnest appeal.
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There are vampires much older, much more powerful than Louis. This hadn't been one of them. Louis sees no reason to elaborate beyond that, but he is compelled enough by the necessity of a more thorough interrogation.
Will this satisfy their collective curiosity? Lestat's, maybe. Daniel's, likely no.
"Where is your next stop, Daniel?"
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You can mindfuck people!! Daniel has total faith.
"DC, then Boston, then home to New York. Toronto next month." A beat, then, because it's a painful offer, but a sincere one. Because he really does worry more about Louis' safety than his own. Not that Daniel is keen to die or sacrifice himself, but he's aware this is borrowed time. Party hours. "I can cancel any of them. All of them, if I have to. At this point, promotions are just a smug victory lap. Not that I don't enjoy it. Of fucking course I do. But you know what I mean. It's whatever, man, if it turns out it's way too dangerous for me or for you or both of us, that's the priority, right?"
He looks at Lestat. Right??
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Something uniquely frustrating to be a participant in a conversation between the two people who engineered this particular crisis to begin with. To drag his name into it as well. Oh, part of him is thrilled by it, is tempted to cackle at the absurdity, see what part of the mess he can make bigger himself—
Then there's the other part, clinging to each measured word coming through the phone. Impenetrable glass. This part is sulking, mainly.
"I can come to Dubai," is probably not what Daniel was looking for. "If you're going to be stubborn, and despite how much I have going on."
Something self-aware in the midst of the scatteredness. He will only have something going on if he chooses to. Right now, nothing tethers him anywhere, save a special interest in keeping at least two vampires alive.
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Daniel has declined Louis' apologies. He has taken the gift in stride. Louis refrains from saying, It's the least I can give you, for the inconvenience you've suffered.
"And you have a meeting," to Lestat. Reasonable, respectful, despite the part of him that would welcome Lestat in Dubai. "I wouldn't like you to miss it."
So perhaps yes, Louis intends to be stubborn. To relentlessly choose this controlled discord, instability after long stasis. To make himself the point of the spear as he shakes free of his isolation.
"I'm not defenseless," Louis reassures, a note of humor coloring his tone.
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—Wry and warm? It's a gift. Nuked a coven, Scared even Armand off (people not polled in this assessment: Armand), once bit a hole through a 20 year old junkie's neck.
"So no big deal to hoover info out of some jerk's head. And we'll just, you know, keep behaving very normally over here. You want me to give him your number, or does he have labors to complete first?"
Louis can't see it, but he'll surely be able to imagine the way he's pointing at Lestat to indicate 'him'. A bit reckless to highlight that Lestat might be in the dog house, but we have fun here. Gives them something to argue over on the train ride to DC besides crossword puzzle clues.
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Lestat purses his lips, and then tosses the phone back to Daniel, a fast frisbee of motion that takes a vampire not to fumble in the catching. He will have to decide how upset he is once Louis replies, and how. But for the record—
"Je n'ai pas de cellphone."
He doesn't have much of an excuse, if you think about it. Smartphones are more intuitive than a rotary dial and an army of switchboard operators and he had no difficulty in using this technology to try to crawl back into Louis' good graces. Fond memories.
But the one he was given didn't work, so.
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It's gone. The minutia of how it went missing is not going to change this. Louis had known for weeks it was a lost cause, defunct and written off and asking after it will change nothing.
And covered, perhaps, by the jostling movement on the other end of the line. Enough to prompt a more hasty interjection, hopefully a distraction as he offers:
"I'll have Rashid collect your appearance dates," since Louis is trying for hands off. Daniel has his tour. Lestat has his meeting. Louis can attend them from afar, at least until: "Perhaps I'll join you in New York, if it's not an imposition."
Where the imposition is less Louis and more the many vampires who would like to rip Louis to shreds.
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???
If he finds this guy charming it's the fucking end for him, of course he missed the evolution of tech slang in his mother country if he's been hiding in a basement in America for a century. Oh NO. The other vampire can probably even brain-sense the reason for Daniel's strange pause. Whatever, not correcting his French out loud (at least not... right now), but the face he pull is briefly absurd. Trying not to laugh at himself.
Anyway. Louis did not actually answer, and so, no phone commentary.
"You? Never." He grins. "When's the last time you've even been in the city? Not a real question, because I'm sure every gallery has new exhibits by now. It'll be great."
Very normal, nothing insane will happen. He's sure.
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Anyway. White noise. White noise dissolving into a whine at the back of his brain which quiets down because Louis wishes to come to New York to see him (and Daniel) and doesn't wish to impose on him (and Daniel).
The breakneck change from the beginnings of a tantrum to a fond smile is probably only assuring in a short term kind of way. He's still charming.
"I would like that," sweetly, earnest.
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Over the phone there is little sign of Louis, standing in front of a painting half-shrouded in sheets. Armand's selection, now sold, awaiting a crate.
When last he was in New York twisting alongside memories of Paris, shoulder by shoulder with Armand in a darkened gallery.
Yes, he would like to be in New York with them.
"I'll make the necessary arrangements to meet you there on the day."
A plane. A coffin. A carefully booked red eye.
"You'll tell me if something changes?" Louis asks. Prompts, softer: "Lestat?"
Who will have to borrow a phone to do so. Preferably Daniel's, but if he wanders off—
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Daniel will text or telepathically ask, later, if the number is okay, or if he should gatekeep it and push his luck. But ideally he will live in a world where Lestat is trying to steal his phone all of the time. Also later, asking Louis Are you sure you're okay?, because so much of nearly eighty years has been centered around his rage at Lestat, as Daniel has been made painstakingly aware.
Not that he can blame him for wanting contact again, after what they figured out. (After what Daniel figured out, get fucked Armand.) It's a little worrying and makes the mess he's starting to see himself in feel weirder - the inescapable vampire bond, ever-looming, no matter what sins are committed. (Again: get fucked, Armand.)
"Where'd I put my fucking cigarettes, anyway."
He turns away, patting himself down. Here, he's a great guy, have a minute where he pretends he can't overhear you two.
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He flicks a glance to Daniel, back down at the phone. "Yes," after a moment. "I will tell you. But I won't change anything. I will schedule for two meetings."
His diary is getting fuller and fuller. Ashes his cigarette into the struggling potted plant on the table at his elbow.
"Are you well? And not, I mean, unharmed from your recent accrochage."
Yes, you're a strong and powerful vampire, Louis.
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Louis owes Daniel quite a bit. It's a running tally now, with eternities of time to make good on it.
"I am unharmed," a reminder, just to be clear in case of any lingering concerns Lestat may be harboring. "And I'm alright. I've been finding my bearings."
How much does Lestat need to hear about Louis' efforts to disentangle his life from what he had shared with Armand?
"How are you?" Louis asks. This too, warm. Careful.
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As in, not good that he is unharmed, and alright, although yes, that's good, great even. Good to be finding his bearings, more importantly. And Lestat adds, in answer to the question, "Finding my bearings as well," because it's true. Releasing himself into the modern world alongside taking the things Louis said to him that night and trying to fathom them, trying to understand how much they change things.
And then there's the book. A thus far largely untouched subject, but equally disorienting as the rest. Daniel has gotten off fairly lightly, as far as his involvement in its production goes. In its promotion. A joyride Lestat can hitch along on while he figures things out. (There are different ways to skin a cat, or punish the writer of all your transgressions.)
"Thinking of you. Have you been thinking of me?"
Unbidden, a memory, Armand telling him that Louis had been doing just that, the day he harmed himself. The twitch that flicks some hair from his face vanishes this conscious thought.
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There is no one else who walks this earth that Louis trusts more. If they must be apart, with Lestat as unsteady as Louis had perceived him, there is no better person than Daniel to shepherd him through his re-emergence.
So it is absurd, to feel even a flicker of jealousy. Louis reminds himself of this, listening to Lestat's voice come through the speaker.
"Yes."
To the tune of of course.
"I bought a painting I think you'd like," Louis tells him. "I've had it hung in my guest room."
A presumption, isn't it? Or worse, a pressure.
Louis, companion enough for himself. Louis, who had not stayed in America. Louis, who needs this space, he knows, and yet—
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If Lestat had any capacity for shame, he might experience a lick of it now at how pleased he sounds, particularly with Daniel several feet away from him, pretending not to listen. Like he could perhaps transmit himself through the phone instead of just his voice.
And then, a twinge of something rare: reservation. There are reasons they aren't in the same room, and it's not a simple matter of Louis' home being in Dubai, in Lestat lacking interest in leaving America. A hesitation in place of the natural instinct to insist himself.
Instead, "I shall have to see sometime," as he turns his cigarette he has neglected to pull from in the last minute. More wry humour, lightening, "I want to know what paintings I like."
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But Louis is aware of it. They have drawn such a balance between them. Extending past it is a delicate matter.
"When you've finished your meetings," Louis murmurs. "Perhaps then."
An invitation. Not prying. Inviting. Lestat will conduct his business. He will visit, if it pleases him.
All far in the future. Louis will be in America before anyone has to consider traveling to Dubai.
"Lestat?"
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Lestat takes a last drag of his cigarette instead of answer that out loud, turning his head to unnecessarily watch himself stub out the cigarette into the dry dirt of the potted plant. Abandoning the butt there. These rooms could really use some ashtrays.
But no, he doesn't really want to distract himself. "Yes?" he says, at the sound of his name, queried. "I'm here."
Night and day, at least in the past twenty seconds, this version of himself—calmer, gentle, restrained—than most of what Daniel has been dealing with. Maybe it'll last.
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Incentive to hold on to his next cell phone? Perhaps.
Or simply that Louis wishes to continue speaking to him. Conversations that Daniel needn't pretend he isn't listening to.
"And I'll see you soon. In New York."
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"I will. And you will."
His goodbye, for now. And is it too late at night to purchase a cellphone? With Daniel's money? It's America, so possibly not, but who knows, not Lestat.
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"Do you ever go to the dentist?"
«Take care of yourself, please. See you soon.»