The offer is a little surprising to Daniel, though not for any expected reasons. Mainly, he just doesn't think Louis needs an invite— he's an adult, if he wants to eat somebody, of course he'd just tag along. Furthermore Daniel assumes that he and Lestat are doing more one on one chatting than they actually are, and wouldn't it come up?
Anyway, it takes him a second to realize Louis has moved his assessing gaze back over to him. Eyebrows go up.
"Of course you're welcome," he confirms. "Even if you just want to sit by and look disappointed. What do you think we're doing, besides the obvious, critiquing your outfits or something while you can't hear us?"
How long, since Lestat and Louis have hunted together? Longer than the last time Lestat asked Louis to come with him, and anticipated the refusal.
He catches Louis' eye, and if Louis is making an assessment, there's no reluctance there. Not even apprehension, until Louis does not immediately refuse, and Lestat goes still, as as one does when trying not to frighten a skittish animal away. The skittish animal being, the concept of hunting together.
Quick, Lestat, say something. Daniel said something. Say something also.
You always look nice loosens something in Louis' expression, in his body. Something in the way Lestat says it catches Louis, hooking some sweet, tender space he holds in his chest that has always been for Lestat.
A smile directed backseat-wards, soft and private. (Private between the three of them, private because Daniel holds all of Louis' secrets, all of his truths, and he can hold this one too.) Relenting. Letting it staunch some of that brittle tension in his body.
"I like that the pair of you go out together."
Something Louis is reluctant to infringe on. All complex emotion aside, he very much likes that Daniel and Lestat have this shared process. He is wary of how his presence might impact it.
"But maybe we could choose a night, and I could come out as your guest," is offered up like a little joke, formal to gloss over all the things Lestat and Daniel could mention about how Louis does and doesn't feed.
He slants a smile to Daniel in the passenger seat, head tipping as he says, "Could show me what you been learning."
And maybe he has to bow out. He likes to think they could all handle that gracefully.
Sweet, private looks over corny lines in the relative public of in the car in front of God and everyone do little to make Daniel think that they two of them aren't fucking again. And this is a settling thought, because he's happy for Louis, and also, a worse part of him sees it as kind of an awful idea. If Louis is indulging in questionable ideas, it's not so bad that Daniel has also been slipping into the abyss of his own.
(Comparing these two things is insane, for the record. He tells himself he can handle it, despite also making himself accept the fact that he probably can't. But what else is there to do? Oh, well. Suck it the fuck up.)
"Like I said. You're always welcome."
Not sure what Louis would like to see from him, speaking of learning things, everything about the indulgence of the kill, of drinking, of enjoying the blood and being inhuman. He wonders if it would just disappoint Louis, or if there's a part of him that might miss it. Like an addict. Daniel considers the ethics of that, and realizes how much more weight he places on it versus human lives, and that's just.. going to be another oh well.
"Please no report cards. I can only imagine, from the both of you."
Lestat, conversely, knows that he and Louis aren't fucking, but it is a little like parts of him never got the memo for the flush of pleasure he feels at the smile he receives. Like he could surge forwards into the front of the car and kiss him, in part for this alone as well as this willingness to tag along on hunts, perhaps even join in.
Doesn't, of course. The keyboard would get in the way, among other obstacles.
"High marks for efficiency," he says, despite this request for no report cards. Taking off his headphones, a shake of his head to fix his hair, whatever that means when its styling of late has been hairspray-tangled waves. "Lacking a little je ne sais quoi, but, there is no rushing style."
Up to Louis to decide what his means, when he might inflict himself on them. It occurs to him that he might try once, on his own. Get a sense of it before adding himself to their duo.
Things to consider. In the moment:
"Sometimes it takes a while, yeah."
Agreement. Let us say nothing of Louis, how long it took him. How he had to stop. (Had to? Did Louis choose or was it—)
"He'll get there," to the back seat.
"However you choose," to the driver's seat.
A little touch between minds, like Louis' fingers on Daniel's knuckles, the back of his hand. Nothing said, only this small bit of contact. Reassuring, grounding. Some traces of his own worries, unease, the things that have lingered even in the wake of Lestat's good work.
"You only say that," that being lacking in style, "because you haven't seen my 'grandpa with early dementia needs help' routine."
Horrible of him. Maybe a joke?? But, meanwhile, he returns the touch in his head, like grasping Louis' hand and giving it a fortifying squeeze. Things have been strange between them — as if they've ever been ordinary — but over caring too fucking much, mutually. Daniel appreciates it, all of it, no matter how much they end up frowning at each other.
"And however you choose." Louis. "Still figuring it out, ignoring it... doesn't matter. No rush, however you're looking at it."
They're not Armand, patronizing Louis while out chasing around some wannabe crypto scammer. It doesn't have to be the way it's been, for Louis. Even if it's just a change in perspective.
The maybe-joke gets a laugh from the backseat, so, someone finds it funny.
Even if all of this feels a little like it's slanting away from his grasp, hearing another vampire, never mind that it's Daniel, encourage Louis in this thing, this thing he had failed to encourage properly. Had been impatient about, as Louis' call for patience suggests. Echoes of Claudia, rather than being entirely alien.
But. The mood has improved. Far be it from Lestat to ruin it with his own angsty synapse firings.
"Burlington," he tells them, "is under two-hundred thousand souls. We likely cannot afford much extravagance, but we can be careful hunters once we are there. Tourists, wintering in the snow. Little lonely cabins on the edge of town, Christmas lights, blood warmed up by the fire."
Well, perhaps this is a different mood, but he it makes him hungry to think about.
"Tourists," is some indication of preference. Or just strategy, as Louis follows it with, "Served us pretty well for a time, back when."
Dicey, invoking the Azalea. Invoking the years when things had been good, even when Louis' conscience was paining him night after night after night until he hadn't been able to bear it.
They're in a different age, and Louis has been long away, but the reasoning that served then may serve them well still: those passing through are less likely to be missed.
"Are we staying in a cabin?"
Rachida has managed everything. Louis had been distracted. Somehow this is a question he directs half over his shoulder as if Lestat will have the answer and not Daniel beside him.
Louis does not need to show off. Maybe it will be Daniel who ends up as mother hen, if the three of them go looking for people to devour like old film monsters. Tugging him away with You-don't-have-tos, and selling the fans who will be deliriously happy to volunteer and go away with not a single fucking soul believing them.
Until then,
"I actually have no idea where we're staying. I have a place paid for by the owners of the book store chain, but your girl vetoed it." Meaning, Rachida. "I think it's a regular hotel, had some fancy ass name."
It isn't, there are no fancy ass hotels in Burlington, Vermont. They will be sequestered in a fancy ass B&B, a mansion contemporary of Louis himself, which has in fact hosted a vacationing vampire before (though this factoid is not on the website).
Lestat is still distracted by his own sense of anticipation for killing random innocent people who are too poor for Aspen when he's drawn back to the conversation, and says, "What? No," like the idea that he has organised or contributed anything to their logistics is outrageous.
Characteristic of him now, and less so, speaking of back when. A man who had taken pleasure in such things, arrangements, surprises, trading with Louis in great synchronisation, for at least a time. They never did go on vacation.
He trusts the hotel with the fancy ass name will be fine, and there will be a coffin for him.
"But I'll find us cabins with dinner inside of them."
Louis' turn to think, quietly to himself, He's different.
A thought that goes nowhere. Shunted away, while Louis flips his book back over.
"Rachida would have had good reason," shrugs away the loss of free lodgings. (Presumably not up to the standards of luxury Louis has grown accustomed to and insists upon when he travels these days.) "I assume she knows where she's going now."
Or at least is responsible for putting the coordinates into Daniel's GPS.
His eyes find Lestat in the rearview. Feels something in his chest turn over. Hungry. Not hungry as Louis knows himself to, the perpetual hunger of having just enough and no more, never quite what is needed. But hungry in a way that carries some warmth, some anticipation.
"Is it New Hampshire after this, or up into Canada?"
Further north, into the cold. More opportunity for Lestat and his pillaging of isolated cabins.
There may have been another stop but it got eaten by Vermont. There are too many comments on this post for me to check. Anyway. Daniel pauses, thinks of something—
"Hey, do you," indicating over his shoulder, pointing at Lestat, "have a valid passport?"
There is a pause that probably should not be in response to asking a person if they have a valid passport. There was an email about it. Lestat could check his phone. But, certainly, he does not have on his person such a document, and so,
"I'll figure it out," is a no but also an it's fine.
"I can make some calls," Louis offers, because of course Louis has a valid passport. Because of course Louis is not convinced it's fine.
There are options available to them, of course. But they are far from the days when Louis and Lestat could hold a room frozen around them and simply walk away from a problem. Security cameras create an annoying wrinkle in that approach.
Of course, there are alternate routes. Louis doesn't yet make the proposal, even though he is sure Daniel would enjoy the opportunity to needle about Louis' allegedly underhanded business strategies.
Of course Louis has a valid passport, Louis lives in Dubai and has almost-billions of dollars (probably only just below that threshold because he spends so much money, Daniel figures) and trades art and travels and does payroll.
"Do you know professional forgers as well as art thieves? Do you have a fake Monet?" Squint. "Nah, Monet's not you. Even the Rembrandt's not you, you just like to flex. Is it a Rothko? After all that, is it a Rothko."
in case this veering off into art theft means they're going to make some calls about it,
"I will figure it out." Lestat shrugs, a shiver of dead muppet hide. "Perhaps one day when everyone properly believes your book, border security will account for telepathic flying vampires, but until then."
Louis' smile flexes wider, offers as an aside, "I wouldn't keep a forgery."
Would he sell a forgery? Who can say.
(Maybe. Yes.
Yes, to those he did not respect. Those who did not respect the art. Those who looked at Louis and Armand, or perhaps even just Armand, in a way Louis did not like.
Those who Armand might eat, under different circumstances.)
If Daniel wants to pry further, it will very likely have to wait, as Louis turns further in his seat. Looks to Lestat, watching the great flutter of movement pass through the fluff of his coat.
"I wouldn't mind," because it has always been Louis' most immediate way of expressing devotion, flexing his wealth in favor of the ones he cared for. "It would give Rashid something to do."
Poor Rashid, running a vampire household without a vampire in it.
"Ask him how many Rashids there are," Daniel advises Lestat, at this turn in conversation. Even though, at this point, he's pretty sure Louis is only referring to every single employee as 'Rashid' just to mess with him. See how far through labels he gets. Real Rashid. Fake Rashid. Miss Rashid. New Rashid. Temp Rashid.
Anyway—
He is going to just focus on driving, and allow Louis and Lestat to chat interrupted in a bit, and will rejoin the conversation when they reach the extremely busy and outlandishly overblown truck stop in an hour or so.
is most certainly on the same level as claiming not to know what the Talamasca is, where a second spent on recall might help him out, but Lestat waves a hand. The point, after all, is, "I will take care of it," insisting. Surely some casual illegal border crossing under moonlight is less of a fuss and certainly cheaper than semi-legitimate string pulling.
And then, Lestat leaning across his keyboard towards Louis, he adds, "But thank you, mon ami," sweetly, and it may be a surprise to know that this is not a deliberate needling. It's nice to have an endearment that, in this new world order, can still be theirs.
Louis hears it like fingers pressing down onto a fracture. Mon ami in place of all the endearments Lestat had once bequeathed him.
But a good reminder. A good reminder of where they stand, in spite of recently blurry boundaries. Louis smiles back over the seat, crushing down any more complex reaction in favor of nodding his acknowledgement. Dropping the offers of calls and help, for the time being.
And see, he is capable of making conversation (asking questions about Lestat's compositions and musical findings as of late) until they wind their way to a dingy truck stop wedged alongside the highway exit. The overhead lights flicker, cast a yellow glow across the place. Louis observes the assembly of human patrons with some interest, shifting to amusement as eyes turn to observe the three of them.
Daniel raising the least eyebrows of the three of them, elected to manage a corner booth for them. One of the cushions has been duct taped back together to prevent stuffing from spilling out. The plastic menus are slightly sticky. People are still staring.
"Coffee?" Louis questions, nonchalant, taking his seat first and expecting everyone else to orient themselve around his presence.
Lestat has yet to make much effort in blending in since Louis has returned to America, since Daniel has personally known him, and hasn't chosen to begin now. Stops short of baring his fangs at anyone whose stares might linger, limits his own more supernatural vibe to a vaguely unsettling aura, vampiric charm set to reverse.
Fortunately, at this hour, in this place, there's enough minding one's business to go around. Lestat decides he does not need clearer vision to take in his surroundings and so the heart-shaped sunglasses stay in place.
"Why not," as to coffee. Bitter enough almost for a vampire to enjoy. He uses his fingernails to flip over the menu, tilting his head, a scanning of items out of sheer curiousity. "Do you imagine one day such places will serve our kind? Free O-negative refills, for the road."
Lestat does not appreciate blood bagged, stored and decanted later, Louis knows. He has been polite in Louis' company, but Louis had watched his face as he'd sipped from Louis' own mug. The intimacy of it had been sweet, even as Lestat had run tongue across his teeth, unmistakable lack of enthusiasm in the way he passed back the cup.
"Maybe," is followed swiftly by, "Maybe not. I can't imagine we wouldn't unsettle them, even decades into the future."
Predators. Even Louis. (Especially Louis.) Would there ever be a day when they wouldn't make humans uneasy? Innate instinct, seeking space from what might devour them.
He ceases fidgeting with the menu, placing his chin in hand, elbow on table.
"We only would begin not to unsettle them if they believe they can control our presence on this earth," Lestat says, a splay of fingers, a relaxing. "If we can cultivate an illusion of such, reassuring enough, then perhaps. But as for my hope, I have not gotten as far as that."
Behind his glasses, he scouts the territory. Those here alone, those here with friends. The tired servers, the man in the kitchen. Impulse wonders if it would be fun to massacre the whole diner, which, of course it would be, but it's something to sigh about rather than linger over.
"But it would be amusing, such conveniences." The tip of his head indicates his focus is back across the table. "What is it you hope for?"
Funny, how in spite of how much Louis knows they both have changed, what remains recognizable. What Louis catches in that brief assessing look Lestat sweeps over the space. He can guess at what Lestat contemplates, finds himself amused by the familiarity of it more so than apprehensive as he once might have been.
He lets it pass. Lestat asked a question, and Louis considers it before doing his own sweep of the space and the mortals within it.
"I want them to keep on living," Louis says. "Untouched by us, and the kind of changes we'd put on them."
In which the Great Conversion™ is one, yes, but there are others. Other ways in which vampires touching human society would change them. Maybe diminish all the things Louis loves so much about humanity, still loves even after all this time away.
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Anyway, it takes him a second to realize Louis has moved his assessing gaze back over to him. Eyebrows go up.
"Of course you're welcome," he confirms. "Even if you just want to sit by and look disappointed. What do you think we're doing, besides the obvious, critiquing your outfits or something while you can't hear us?"
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He catches Louis' eye, and if Louis is making an assessment, there's no reluctance there. Not even apprehension, until Louis does not immediately refuse, and Lestat goes still, as as one does when trying not to frighten a skittish animal away. The skittish animal being, the concept of hunting together.
Quick, Lestat, say something. Daniel said something. Say something also.
"You always look nice."
Nailed it.
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A smile directed backseat-wards, soft and private. (Private between the three of them, private because Daniel holds all of Louis' secrets, all of his truths, and he can hold this one too.) Relenting. Letting it staunch some of that brittle tension in his body.
"I like that the pair of you go out together."
Something Louis is reluctant to infringe on. All complex emotion aside, he very much likes that Daniel and Lestat have this shared process. He is wary of how his presence might impact it.
"But maybe we could choose a night, and I could come out as your guest," is offered up like a little joke, formal to gloss over all the things Lestat and Daniel could mention about how Louis does and doesn't feed.
He slants a smile to Daniel in the passenger seat, head tipping as he says, "Could show me what you been learning."
And maybe he has to bow out. He likes to think they could all handle that gracefully.
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(Comparing these two things is insane, for the record. He tells himself he can handle it, despite also making himself accept the fact that he probably can't. But what else is there to do? Oh, well. Suck it the fuck up.)
"Like I said. You're always welcome."
Not sure what Louis would like to see from him, speaking of learning things, everything about the indulgence of the kill, of drinking, of enjoying the blood and being inhuman. He wonders if it would just disappoint Louis, or if there's a part of him that might miss it. Like an addict. Daniel considers the ethics of that, and realizes how much more weight he places on it versus human lives, and that's just.. going to be another oh well.
"Please no report cards. I can only imagine, from the both of you."
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Doesn't, of course. The keyboard would get in the way, among other obstacles.
"High marks for efficiency," he says, despite this request for no report cards. Taking off his headphones, a shake of his head to fix his hair, whatever that means when its styling of late has been hairspray-tangled waves. "Lacking a little je ne sais quoi, but, there is no rushing style."
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Things to consider. In the moment:
"Sometimes it takes a while, yeah."
Agreement. Let us say nothing of Louis, how long it took him. How he had to stop. (Had to? Did Louis choose or was it—)
"He'll get there," to the back seat.
"However you choose," to the driver's seat.
A little touch between minds, like Louis' fingers on Daniel's knuckles, the back of his hand. Nothing said, only this small bit of contact. Reassuring, grounding. Some traces of his own worries, unease, the things that have lingered even in the wake of Lestat's good work.
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Horrible of him. Maybe a joke?? But, meanwhile, he returns the touch in his head, like grasping Louis' hand and giving it a fortifying squeeze. Things have been strange between them — as if they've ever been ordinary — but over caring too fucking much, mutually. Daniel appreciates it, all of it, no matter how much they end up frowning at each other.
"And however you choose." Louis. "Still figuring it out, ignoring it... doesn't matter. No rush, however you're looking at it."
They're not Armand, patronizing Louis while out chasing around some wannabe crypto scammer. It doesn't have to be the way it's been, for Louis. Even if it's just a change in perspective.
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Even if all of this feels a little like it's slanting away from his grasp, hearing another vampire, never mind that it's Daniel, encourage Louis in this thing, this thing he had failed to encourage properly. Had been impatient about, as Louis' call for patience suggests. Echoes of Claudia, rather than being entirely alien.
But. The mood has improved. Far be it from Lestat to ruin it with his own angsty synapse firings.
"Burlington," he tells them, "is under two-hundred thousand souls. We likely cannot afford much extravagance, but we can be careful hunters once we are there. Tourists, wintering in the snow. Little lonely cabins on the edge of town, Christmas lights, blood warmed up by the fire."
Well, perhaps this is a different mood, but he it makes him hungry to think about.
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Dicey, invoking the Azalea. Invoking the years when things had been good, even when Louis' conscience was paining him night after night after night until he hadn't been able to bear it.
They're in a different age, and Louis has been long away, but the reasoning that served then may serve them well still: those passing through are less likely to be missed.
"Are we staying in a cabin?"
Rachida has managed everything. Louis had been distracted. Somehow this is a question he directs half over his shoulder as if Lestat will have the answer and not Daniel beside him.
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Until then,
"I actually have no idea where we're staying. I have a place paid for by the owners of the book store chain, but your girl vetoed it." Meaning, Rachida. "I think it's a regular hotel, had some fancy ass name."
It isn't, there are no fancy ass hotels in Burlington, Vermont. They will be sequestered in a fancy ass B&B, a mansion contemporary of Louis himself, which has in fact hosted a vacationing vampire before (though this factoid is not on the website).
"Unless you found a cabin."
Lestat?
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Characteristic of him now, and less so, speaking of back when. A man who had taken pleasure in such things, arrangements, surprises, trading with Louis in great synchronisation, for at least a time. They never did go on vacation.
He trusts the hotel with the fancy ass name will be fine, and there will be a coffin for him.
"But I'll find us cabins with dinner inside of them."
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A thought that goes nowhere. Shunted away, while Louis flips his book back over.
"Rachida would have had good reason," shrugs away the loss of free lodgings. (Presumably not up to the standards of luxury Louis has grown accustomed to and insists upon when he travels these days.) "I assume she knows where she's going now."
Or at least is responsible for putting the coordinates into Daniel's GPS.
His eyes find Lestat in the rearview. Feels something in his chest turn over. Hungry. Not hungry as Louis knows himself to, the perpetual hunger of having just enough and no more, never quite what is needed. But hungry in a way that carries some warmth, some anticipation.
"Is it New Hampshire after this, or up into Canada?"
Further north, into the cold. More opportunity for Lestat and his pillaging of isolated cabins.
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There may have been another stop but it got eaten by Vermont. There are too many comments on this post for me to check. Anyway. Daniel pauses, thinks of something—
"Hey, do you," indicating over his shoulder, pointing at Lestat, "have a valid passport?"
Uh oh.
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There is a pause that probably should not be in response to asking a person if they have a valid passport. There was an email about it. Lestat could check his phone. But, certainly, he does not have on his person such a document, and so,
"I'll figure it out," is a no but also an it's fine.
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There are options available to them, of course. But they are far from the days when Louis and Lestat could hold a room frozen around them and simply walk away from a problem. Security cameras create an annoying wrinkle in that approach.
Of course, there are alternate routes. Louis doesn't yet make the proposal, even though he is sure Daniel would enjoy the opportunity to needle about Louis' allegedly underhanded business strategies.
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"Do you know professional forgers as well as art thieves? Do you have a fake Monet?" Squint. "Nah, Monet's not you. Even the Rembrandt's not you, you just like to flex. Is it a Rothko? After all that, is it a Rothko."
Anyway.
Lestat can probably hop over the border.
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in case this veering off into art theft means they're going to make some calls about it,
"I will figure it out." Lestat shrugs, a shiver of dead muppet hide. "Perhaps one day when everyone properly believes your book, border security will account for telepathic flying vampires, but until then."
Enjoy it while it lasts.
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Would he sell a forgery? Who can say.
(Maybe. Yes.
Yes, to those he did not respect. Those who did not respect the art. Those who looked at Louis and Armand, or perhaps even just Armand, in a way Louis did not like.
Those who Armand might eat, under different circumstances.)
If Daniel wants to pry further, it will very likely have to wait, as Louis turns further in his seat. Looks to Lestat, watching the great flutter of movement pass through the fluff of his coat.
"I wouldn't mind," because it has always been Louis' most immediate way of expressing devotion, flexing his wealth in favor of the ones he cared for. "It would give Rashid something to do."
Poor Rashid, running a vampire household without a vampire in it.
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Anyway—
He is going to just focus on driving, and allow Louis and Lestat to chat interrupted in a bit, and will rejoin the conversation when they reach the extremely busy and outlandishly overblown truck stop in an hour or so.
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is most certainly on the same level as claiming not to know what the Talamasca is, where a second spent on recall might help him out, but Lestat waves a hand. The point, after all, is, "I will take care of it," insisting. Surely some casual illegal border crossing under moonlight is less of a fuss and certainly cheaper than semi-legitimate string pulling.
And then, Lestat leaning across his keyboard towards Louis, he adds, "But thank you, mon ami," sweetly, and it may be a surprise to know that this is not a deliberate needling. It's nice to have an endearment that, in this new world order, can still be theirs.
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Louis hears it like fingers pressing down onto a fracture. Mon ami in place of all the endearments Lestat had once bequeathed him.
But a good reminder. A good reminder of where they stand, in spite of recently blurry boundaries. Louis smiles back over the seat, crushing down any more complex reaction in favor of nodding his acknowledgement. Dropping the offers of calls and help, for the time being.
And see, he is capable of making conversation (asking questions about Lestat's compositions and musical findings as of late) until they wind their way to a dingy truck stop wedged alongside the highway exit. The overhead lights flicker, cast a yellow glow across the place. Louis observes the assembly of human patrons with some interest, shifting to amusement as eyes turn to observe the three of them.
Daniel raising the least eyebrows of the three of them, elected to manage a corner booth for them. One of the cushions has been duct taped back together to prevent stuffing from spilling out. The plastic menus are slightly sticky. People are still staring.
"Coffee?" Louis questions, nonchalant, taking his seat first and expecting everyone else to orient themselve around his presence.
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Fortunately, at this hour, in this place, there's enough minding one's business to go around. Lestat decides he does not need clearer vision to take in his surroundings and so the heart-shaped sunglasses stay in place.
"Why not," as to coffee. Bitter enough almost for a vampire to enjoy. He uses his fingernails to flip over the menu, tilting his head, a scanning of items out of sheer curiousity. "Do you imagine one day such places will serve our kind? Free O-negative refills, for the road."
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"Maybe," is followed swiftly by, "Maybe not. I can't imagine we wouldn't unsettle them, even decades into the future."
Predators. Even Louis. (Especially Louis.) Would there ever be a day when they wouldn't make humans uneasy? Innate instinct, seeking space from what might devour them.
"Is that what you hope comes of this?"
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"We only would begin not to unsettle them if they believe they can control our presence on this earth," Lestat says, a splay of fingers, a relaxing. "If we can cultivate an illusion of such, reassuring enough, then perhaps. But as for my hope, I have not gotten as far as that."
Behind his glasses, he scouts the territory. Those here alone, those here with friends. The tired servers, the man in the kitchen. Impulse wonders if it would be fun to massacre the whole diner, which, of course it would be, but it's something to sigh about rather than linger over.
"But it would be amusing, such conveniences." The tip of his head indicates his focus is back across the table. "What is it you hope for?"
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He lets it pass. Lestat asked a question, and Louis considers it before doing his own sweep of the space and the mortals within it.
"I want them to keep on living," Louis says. "Untouched by us, and the kind of changes we'd put on them."
In which the Great Conversion™ is one, yes, but there are others. Other ways in which vampires touching human society would change them. Maybe diminish all the things Louis loves so much about humanity, still loves even after all this time away.
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advance warning that i am going to make you all decide the seating configuartion in this booth
see discord img
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