Thinking of New Orleans. Of nudging his ankle against Lestat's beneath their table at the Azalea. The way Lestat would smile at him just this way, and Louis would feel it this same way, this warmth in his chest.
He rolls the cup against his jaw, looks back at Lestat. A mirrored look, a smile that has always been for him.
"Not Kesha," is perhaps Louis' version of helping. A little disqualifer to prevent Daniel from ending up singing back up vocals on TiK ToK.
Jeannie cooks up a list of things that Daniel is never going to try, because he knows better than to make himself go viral for absurdity despite his general willingness to play ball; Mark volunteers to sing I Got You Babe with her, and this makes her both very excited and very nervous, torn whether or not she'd want to go up. Mark will be terrible, but singing the Sonny half of and Cher means he can get away with it.
Anyway, they'd have to go sign up, which no one has done even by the time Daniel gets back (minus two others who have gratefully bailed)—
"I don't think I'm drunk enough for that yet, am I?"
"I mean," Lestat says, a gesture around at the table, including all of them in his address to Daniel in specific, "either you will go on stage courageous or sober. It is up to you which."
And his sense of decorum a.k.a waiting for at least one other person at this table to go sign up before he takes his second turn is close to expiring.
But he has refilled Daniel's glass, so, he is being helpful.
The breathless effort at Sir Mix-A-Lot stylings (lots of applause) has been replaced by a woman who has finally, herself, had enough themed daiquiris to get on stage and sing an extremely if slightly over embellished rendition of Part Of Your World. The talent itself gets Lestat to acknowledge the stage again with a glance. Confused. What is this song.
"It'll take more than that to sway Daniel's sobriety."
An observation made with a fond smile, softer than one might expect a smile accompanying commentary on alcohol tolerance to be. Fucked, that there is something fond lingering in the memories of San Francisco. The long hours before everything went sideways, Daniel animated and grinning and irreverent as Louis said the worst things aloud, dizzy with the relief of bleeding all those words out of his chest.
(A passing glance towards now emptied chairs at the end of the able, considering, and then deciding not to remark on the brief interlude where Rachida and Ramiz had accompanied them.)
"Disney," tacked in, low aside to Lestat, as Mark snorts at whatever is in Lestat's face as he takes in Disney's take on youthful yearning. Millenials. Louis can find these two endearing. Adds, "There was a movie, once," even if that information is not necessarily helpful.
Daniel raises his hands in protest!! Hello!! He's laughing, but still—
"Revealing my secrets! C'mon."
He's just a little old man, Louis, he can't drink everyone in the state under a table. And it is fucked, but there's something about it. A permanent link. Louis, a very real angel, and Daniel
a drug addict.
ALMOST romantic. Well, anyway. It was also fucked that they kept plying him with booze in Dubai hoping to make him a little less sharp, but that incident was funnier, because Armand kept making martinis and Daniel kept drinking them and nothing kept happening.
Jeannie hand-wrings, and Daniel tells her to bring him a top 5 list from the DJ, and he'll pick something off there. But she's got to put her name on the list with Mark, which she finally agrees to when her boyfriend suggests they put in for more Mai Tais on the walk back. Somebody else is going after Sir Mix-A-Lot anyway, they've got a few minutes at least.
"I know what Disney is," Lestat says. He knows everything. He is caught up, Louis, don't worry about it.
A glance back to Daniel, a flick of his eyeline indicates the full glass of vodka prepared especially—drink up, then—and then back to the stage, an arm slung over the back of his chair in his lean. It is important he fully absorb this mermaid song and its rising orchestral compositions and the overly emotive vibrato-filled performance by (he checks) Susan who works reception at a dentistry clinic.
And hear how it keeps going! Building up and up! Synth and piano and flute and, just as impactfully, a crescendo of silence. Unfortunately for Louis, Lestat would probably very much enjoy Broadway.
Louis' eyes flick to Daniel, as if seeking confirmation. Does Lestat know what Disney is?
Maybe Louis will very much enjoy Broadway. Perhaps his objections to past Parisian theater were very specific, and unlikely to be replicated by mortal creators. There may be only one way to know for sure.
Regardless, in the moment, Louis doesn't seem overly enraptured by Susan's musical stylings, nor her choice in song.
"How many commitments do you have here?" Louis asks Daniel across the table. Genuine curiosity. How much does Vermont wish to see Daniel Molloy
Hunchback? Mulan? His personal favorite out of the Disney Renaissance is Rescuers Down Under, but it's not a musical. Cruelly overlooked. But those mice fucking rule.
"It's not that much," he tells Louis, "just spread out over three days. There's really no fucking reason to come out here, but the owner of the book store wrote a very compelling letter about how, following that, nobody ever fucking comes out here. So there's going to be like, two people driving in from Maine, too, and whatever. A hotbed of literary excitement."
And Susan has probably read fiction about nerdy women performing at karaoke only be to gazed at lovingly by a vampire across the room, or at least something very similar, and unfortunately this one time occurrence is happening now and it's Lestat. He can appreciate a pretty, maudlin performance, and even if no one here thinks he's literally a vampire, he has enough momentary karaoke clout to induce some fluster when she manages to break a look from the screen to notice his attention.
"I'm not going to go if you're only talking about politics again," Lestat says of these literary events, meanwhile, and then gives his polite applause as the last tinkling notes of the song play out. A glance over, a thin pressed smile: they are friends and he is only teasing. But also really.
Considering which Disney movie they should inflict on Lestat, or if they should introduce Lestat to Disney takes up a few minutes of Louis' time. His associations are somewhat removed from Daniel's. No childhood fondness in Louis' heart, and only some technical recollection of the properties. What he and Armand drifted past as they moved through the world back then, before they sequestered in Dubai.
But no need for that digression. Louis lifts his long-neglected drink, keeps it held delicately between his fingers as he tips a glance between Lestat and Daniel. Jeannie and Mark left to their own devices, debates about song choice or murmured gossip about locals.
"Daniel has a vast body of work. I'm sure he could accommodate the request."
Volunteering Daniel to Lestat's whims, casually. Louis tosses back the vodka, sets down the glass.
Daniel had kids in the 80s and 90s. He has seen every classic Disney movie. He saw them in theaters packed with fussing babies and the worst popcorn known to man, in the days you could still smoke in some of the shittier cinemas. He did cocaine in the middle of The Great Mouse Detective. World's best dad.
"We'll find something more exciting than the continued existence of the planet we live on," Daniel tells him somberly, both pandering to Lestat and giving him shit.
Anyway. Vodka as well, he follows suit, salutes Louis with the empty shot glass, and looks up when Jeannie returns to show him his request list. Which is all bullshit. He complains about it, bemoaning the popularity of Frozen (which he hasn't seen, a product after his parental duties cutoff). Discussion, and then Mark goes Oh, oh, oh! with the enthusiasm of someone who is secretly drunker than he looks on. Whatever the suggestion he shows Daniel on his phone is gets grudging approval.
One more song between the end of Susan, and then it's Sonny and Cher time, and then, maybe, Daniel.
Lestat is rising out of his seat as Daniel speaks, rewarding him with an indulgent smile as if completely immune or deaf to the innate sarcasm of the offering. "Dieu merci," he says, blows a kiss, and twirls away to make tracks for the bar.
Friendship.
And also: obtaining another overpriced cocktail, but this one is for Susan who had quickly scurried in that direction for a beer. Lestat, smoothly, asserting he will buy her a proper drink for her performance, lifting the beer off the bar from in front of her to sip from. Which should probably be more off putting than it works out to be. Disney is a place in Florida and he's a feminist because he loves women, so it's fine.
She flusters. Asks for a Long Island ice tea. Giggles at something he says.
"You can buy me a drink after my song," Daniel says, very clearly teasing Louis about his doe eyes in Lestat's direction. Because they're a thing, or working on it. He's glad to see Lestat happy about music, and he hopes that his socializing with mortals at a bar isn't because he's going to go eat Little Mermaid later. C'mon. Behave.
More vodka? More vodka. We're having fun.
"Oh, well, what's the progress on picking out your own track?" Hm? HM? Daniel gives him a pointed look. Going to be the mysterious odd man out after all? What was that about a repeat performance?
Louis' gaze slides over to Daniel. Favors him with a smile, soft-edged and affectionate.
"I'll buy you a drink," he agrees. "Maybe a grasshopper, for old times' sake."
If they make it strong enough, it'll be all the sharp bite of alcohol, none of the sweetness. Suitable.
Side-stepping the latter question. Or attempting. Mark leans an elbow on the table, catching Louis by the wrist as he repeats it, rephrased: Are you gonna sing? Familiar, but Louis doesn't blame him, doesn't seem to take offense. Mark painted his nails, has been sweet, and is one of Daniel's people.
So Louis looks back to Daniel and says, "You're a bad influence on them."
Daniel grins at him, and there's something boyish in the expression. Every so often there's flashes of continuity, the dopey kid at the bar. Here they are, at another bar, and he's about to be just as dopey. Worse, really, because at twenty he had pride to be ruffled, didn't want to hear Danny. And now he doesn't care. The freedom of being fucking old.
(Even if he still doesn't love 'Danny.')
"I'm a bad influence on everybody."
That's his thing.
Wrecking Ball is starting. Oh, god. It's going to be screams from everyone in here that knows the chorus.
The tepid attempt at scolding is ruined when Louis smiles back. Sees that familiar quality in Daniel's smile and is so pleased by it, pleased at the pieces of him that are recognizable, still there after all this time.
"I already put on a real good performance tonight," Louis reminds Daniel, pivoting back because no one at this table is going to allow him peace. Permits Mark custody of his hand as he declines their combined request. "One's enough."
Mark thumbs over Louis' rings, covetous. Jeannie is leaning on his shoulder, cheek smooshed and arm slung round Mark's waist as she whispers what sounds absolutely like criticism of Mr. Wrecking Ball into Mark's bicep.
"You are hammered, homegirl," Daniel informs Jeannie, and it makes both the mortals laugh. Grandpa saying funny words never gets old.
After this he decrees that Louis shall be spared, at least from their peer pressure — privately reserving the potential for Lestat to try and wrench something into existence — and he sits back to sip at more alcohol while Mark shifts around to hold his girlfriend and join in the chorus with her when it hits.
Readjusting his rings (one turned all the way in the opposite direction, one twisted at an angle at Jeannie's insistence) Louis doesn't look up immediately. Mind opening, a welcome, before Louis angles his body towards Daniel across Lestat's empty seat.
Gears turning, indistinct but unmistakable, as Louis weighs the question.
Yes, is tepid, certainly, but honest. I like seeing you all enjoying yourselves.
Aware that he is, to some extent, wall-flowering. Louis thinks he's entitled to hang back, to observe. But, just to be certain:
Lestat's return to the table could be motivated by spying Mark getting handsy for a moment there, or his intuition that Louis and Daniel are once again tangling about in psychic discourse, which is probably technically acceptable when Lestat himself is not at the table, but in this case, it's at least mostly the chorus.
"Je suis entrée comme un—"
The French does not actually map very well to Miley's lyrics, lost anyway in the way he has borderline teleported back, except there is certainly momentum that Louis will have to catch himself against, Lestat's arms around his shoulders from behind. And a peel of laughter losing the rest.
Hey what are we talking about gANG.
He swings himself around back into his chair with a sigh. He's hilarious. And definitely drank half of the vodka bottle while Louis was not drinking anything and Daniel was playing social musical chairs. A languid tipping towards Daniel as he says, "Are you singing after all?"
Instead of an answer formed in words, Daniel offers Louis the psychic version of squeezing his hand— it's clumsy, but he wants to show him. Just how happy he is. Overwhelming, stupid sentiment, seeing Louis out in the world, Louis doing goofy shit like picking a fight, Louis watching Lestat perform with a look of wonder, Louis getting his nails painted. Louis, safe, here, alive.
(Daniel does love him. Not the way Lestat does. But he does love him.)
And then, the wrecking ball of Lestat de Holyfuck—
He can't help his sudden laugh. Heeyyyy.
"The kids are going up," he says, a little loud over the rowdy chorus of a bar that's forgotten all about a thrown punch. "And then: yes."
Louis, shockingly sober thanks to the tempering presence of Rachida and Ramiz, possesses the reflexes to catch himself rather than be knocked out of his chair. The look he gives Lestat is affectionate, rather than annoyed.
And it lifts too to Daniel beyond him. Understands this sensation as an affirmative, feels it high in his chest. There's little else to do but let it sit, because getting overly sentimental in a Vermont karaoke bar is a recipe for some kind of disaster.
Still, some soft, sweet squeeze of emotion in answer. Louis is here because of Daniel. It is an undeniable truth.
"He won't say which song," Louis mock-complains to Lestat. Reaches over to touch his wrist, a little insurance against Lestat tipping too far in his seat.
"That is because Daniel has a sense of drama and showmanship," Lestat explains, very reasonable, and allows himself to tip even further as he turns his hand, anchors himself with Louis' offered touch.
Pivots to look at said showman. "Non? And you don't have to shout," a teaching moment, other hand coming up to hook over a shoulder, a little tap of a finger. "We can hear you just as well through any noise. Even with humans, you can make yours the only voice they care to hear. We barely require a microphone."
A timely thing to know if Daniel is fixing to woo the whole bar in a few minutes, he thinks. "But it's fun to hold," he adds.
"It's—" Oh? Oh. Yeah. He nods at Lestat, then looks back at Louis, shrugging. "Drama and showmanship."
He had only been derailing to try and drag Louis into more shenanigans, but sure, that too. Little telepathic fingers against his, still, reassuring. It's not the alcohol that's making him feel loser. The contentment of being here and it being real. Daniel isn't too social, not really, but once in a while? Pretty fucking cool, seeing something this way.
He confesses, about volume, "I don't think I'd been in a bar with anyone else in fifteen years, before you surprised me outside the train station."
And what an indulgence, a luxury, to be playing with each others fingers, hands together over the table. So much of their courtship and their relationship afterwards was stymied and obscured in public. Separated by tables, by Louis relegated to long steps behind or assigned sections of this and that space.
Now, Lestat simply turns his hand to link into Louis' and there is nothing at all to it. Just a simple thing happening. Easy as Mark's arms around Jeannie.
Behind all of this, some absurd envy for Lestat and Daniel in a bar. But Louis holds that too in check.
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He rolls the cup against his jaw, looks back at Lestat. A mirrored look, a smile that has always been for him.
"Not Kesha," is perhaps Louis' version of helping. A little disqualifer to prevent Daniel from ending up singing back up vocals on TiK ToK.
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Anyway, they'd have to go sign up, which no one has done even by the time Daniel gets back (minus two others who have gratefully bailed)—
"I don't think I'm drunk enough for that yet, am I?"
An impossible hurdle.
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And his sense of decorum a.k.a waiting for at least one other person at this table to go sign up before he takes his second turn is close to expiring.
But he has refilled Daniel's glass, so, he is being helpful.
The breathless effort at Sir Mix-A-Lot stylings (lots of applause) has been replaced by a woman who has finally, herself, had enough themed daiquiris to get on stage and sing an extremely if slightly over embellished rendition of Part Of Your World. The talent itself gets Lestat to acknowledge the stage again with a glance. Confused. What is this song.
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An observation made with a fond smile, softer than one might expect a smile accompanying commentary on alcohol tolerance to be. Fucked, that there is something fond lingering in the memories of San Francisco. The long hours before everything went sideways, Daniel animated and grinning and irreverent as Louis said the worst things aloud, dizzy with the relief of bleeding all those words out of his chest.
(A passing glance towards now emptied chairs at the end of the able, considering, and then deciding not to remark on the brief interlude where Rachida and Ramiz had accompanied them.)
"Disney," tacked in, low aside to Lestat, as Mark snorts at whatever is in Lestat's face as he takes in Disney's take on youthful yearning. Millenials. Louis can find these two endearing. Adds, "There was a movie, once," even if that information is not necessarily helpful.
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"Revealing my secrets! C'mon."
He's just a little old man, Louis, he can't drink everyone in the state under a table. And it is fucked, but there's something about it. A permanent link. Louis, a very real angel, and Daniel
a drug addict.
ALMOST romantic. Well, anyway. It was also fucked that they kept plying him with booze in Dubai hoping to make him a little less sharp, but that incident was funnier, because Armand kept making martinis and Daniel kept drinking them and nothing kept happening.
Jeannie hand-wrings, and Daniel tells her to bring him a top 5 list from the DJ, and he'll pick something off there. But she's got to put her name on the list with Mark, which she finally agrees to when her boyfriend suggests they put in for more Mai Tais on the walk back. Somebody else is going after Sir Mix-A-Lot anyway, they've got a few minutes at least.
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A glance back to Daniel, a flick of his eyeline indicates the full glass of vodka prepared especially—drink up, then—and then back to the stage, an arm slung over the back of his chair in his lean. It is important he fully absorb this mermaid song and its rising orchestral compositions and the overly emotive vibrato-filled performance by (he checks) Susan who works reception at a dentistry clinic.
And hear how it keeps going! Building up and up! Synth and piano and flute and, just as impactfully, a crescendo of silence. Unfortunately for Louis, Lestat would probably very much enjoy Broadway.
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Maybe Louis will very much enjoy Broadway. Perhaps his objections to past Parisian theater were very specific, and unlikely to be replicated by mortal creators. There may be only one way to know for sure.
Regardless, in the moment, Louis doesn't seem overly enraptured by Susan's musical stylings, nor her choice in song.
"How many commitments do you have here?" Louis asks Daniel across the table. Genuine curiosity. How much does Vermont wish to see Daniel Molloy
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"Maybe we can watch one."
Hunchback? Mulan? His personal favorite out of the Disney Renaissance is Rescuers Down Under, but it's not a musical. Cruelly overlooked. But those mice fucking rule.
"It's not that much," he tells Louis, "just spread out over three days. There's really no fucking reason to come out here, but the owner of the book store wrote a very compelling letter about how, following that, nobody ever fucking comes out here. So there's going to be like, two people driving in from Maine, too, and whatever. A hotbed of literary excitement."
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And Susan has probably read fiction about nerdy women performing at karaoke only be to gazed at lovingly by a vampire across the room, or at least something very similar, and unfortunately this one time occurrence is happening now and it's Lestat. He can appreciate a pretty, maudlin performance, and even if no one here thinks he's literally a vampire, he has enough momentary karaoke clout to induce some fluster when she manages to break a look from the screen to notice his attention.
"I'm not going to go if you're only talking about politics again," Lestat says of these literary events, meanwhile, and then gives his polite applause as the last tinkling notes of the song play out. A glance over, a thin pressed smile: they are friends and he is only teasing. But also really.
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But no need for that digression. Louis lifts his long-neglected drink, keeps it held delicately between his fingers as he tips a glance between Lestat and Daniel. Jeannie and Mark left to their own devices, debates about song choice or murmured gossip about locals.
"Daniel has a vast body of work. I'm sure he could accommodate the request."
Volunteering Daniel to Lestat's whims, casually. Louis tosses back the vodka, sets down the glass.
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"We'll find something more exciting than the continued existence of the planet we live on," Daniel tells him somberly, both pandering to Lestat and giving him shit.
Anyway. Vodka as well, he follows suit, salutes Louis with the empty shot glass, and looks up when Jeannie returns to show him his request list. Which is all bullshit. He complains about it, bemoaning the popularity of Frozen (which he hasn't seen, a product after his parental duties cutoff). Discussion, and then Mark goes Oh, oh, oh! with the enthusiasm of someone who is secretly drunker than he looks on. Whatever the suggestion he shows Daniel on his phone is gets grudging approval.
One more song between the end of Susan, and then it's Sonny and Cher time, and then, maybe, Daniel.
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Friendship.
And also: obtaining another overpriced cocktail, but this one is for Susan who had quickly scurried in that direction for a beer. Lestat, smoothly, asserting he will buy her a proper drink for her performance, lifting the beer off the bar from in front of her to sip from. Which should probably be more off putting than it works out to be. Disney is a place in Florida and he's a feminist because he loves women, so it's fine.
She flusters. Asks for a Long Island ice tea. Giggles at something he says.
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Having to straighten in his seat, a flicker of—
Jealousy?
Something.
Watching Lestat and Susan.
Maybe envy, a different kind of emotion. Susan, freely effusive in her admiration where Louis has not, cannot be.
A little too much introspection for this exact point in time.
Looking between Mark and Daniel, prompts: "Are you going to share the choice, or leave it to surprise us?"
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More vodka? More vodka. We're having fun.
"Oh, well, what's the progress on picking out your own track?" Hm? HM? Daniel gives him a pointed look. Going to be the mysterious odd man out after all? What was that about a repeat performance?
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"I'll buy you a drink," he agrees. "Maybe a grasshopper, for old times' sake."
If they make it strong enough, it'll be all the sharp bite of alcohol, none of the sweetness. Suitable.
Side-stepping the latter question. Or attempting. Mark leans an elbow on the table, catching Louis by the wrist as he repeats it, rephrased: Are you gonna sing? Familiar, but Louis doesn't blame him, doesn't seem to take offense. Mark painted his nails, has been sweet, and is one of Daniel's people.
So Louis looks back to Daniel and says, "You're a bad influence on them."
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(Even if he still doesn't love 'Danny.')
"I'm a bad influence on everybody."
That's his thing.
Wrecking Ball is starting. Oh, god. It's going to be screams from everyone in here that knows the chorus.
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"I already put on a real good performance tonight," Louis reminds Daniel, pivoting back because no one at this table is going to allow him peace. Permits Mark custody of his hand as he declines their combined request. "One's enough."
Mark thumbs over Louis' rings, covetous. Jeannie is leaning on his shoulder, cheek smooshed and arm slung round Mark's waist as she whispers what sounds absolutely like criticism of Mr. Wrecking Ball into Mark's bicep.
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After this he decrees that Louis shall be spared, at least from their peer pressure — privately reserving the potential for Lestat to try and wrench something into existence — and he sits back to sip at more alcohol while Mark shifts around to hold his girlfriend and join in the chorus with her when it hits.
To Louis,
'Are you having a good time? Honest.'
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Gears turning, indistinct but unmistakable, as Louis weighs the question.
Yes, is tepid, certainly, but honest. I like seeing you all enjoying yourselves.
Aware that he is, to some extent, wall-flowering. Louis thinks he's entitled to hang back, to observe. But, just to be certain:
Are you happy, Daniel?
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"Je suis entrée comme un—"
The French does not actually map very well to Miley's lyrics, lost anyway in the way he has borderline teleported back, except there is certainly momentum that Louis will have to catch himself against, Lestat's arms around his shoulders from behind. And a peel of laughter losing the rest.
Hey what are we talking about gANG.
He swings himself around back into his chair with a sigh. He's hilarious. And definitely drank half of the vodka bottle while Louis was not drinking anything and Daniel was playing social musical chairs. A languid tipping towards Daniel as he says, "Are you singing after all?"
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(Daniel does love him. Not the way Lestat does. But he does love him.)
And then, the wrecking ball of Lestat de Holyfuck—
He can't help his sudden laugh. Heeyyyy.
"The kids are going up," he says, a little loud over the rowdy chorus of a bar that's forgotten all about a thrown punch. "And then: yes."
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And it lifts too to Daniel beyond him. Understands this sensation as an affirmative, feels it high in his chest. There's little else to do but let it sit, because getting overly sentimental in a Vermont karaoke bar is a recipe for some kind of disaster.
Still, some soft, sweet squeeze of emotion in answer. Louis is here because of Daniel. It is an undeniable truth.
"He won't say which song," Louis mock-complains to Lestat. Reaches over to touch his wrist, a little insurance against Lestat tipping too far in his seat.
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Pivots to look at said showman. "Non? And you don't have to shout," a teaching moment, other hand coming up to hook over a shoulder, a little tap of a finger. "We can hear you just as well through any noise. Even with humans, you can make yours the only voice they care to hear. We barely require a microphone."
A timely thing to know if Daniel is fixing to woo the whole bar in a few minutes, he thinks. "But it's fun to hold," he adds.
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He had only been derailing to try and drag Louis into more shenanigans, but sure, that too. Little telepathic fingers against his, still, reassuring. It's not the alcohol that's making him feel loser. The contentment of being here and it being real. Daniel isn't too social, not really, but once in a while? Pretty fucking cool, seeing something this way.
He confesses, about volume, "I don't think I'd been in a bar with anyone else in fifteen years, before you surprised me outside the train station."
Still getting his socializing sea legs back.
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And what an indulgence, a luxury, to be playing with each others fingers, hands together over the table. So much of their courtship and their relationship afterwards was stymied and obscured in public. Separated by tables, by Louis relegated to long steps behind or assigned sections of this and that space.
Now, Lestat simply turns his hand to link into Louis' and there is nothing at all to it. Just a simple thing happening. Easy as Mark's arms around Jeannie.
Behind all of this, some absurd envy for Lestat and Daniel in a bar. But Louis holds that too in check.
"When was this?" he inquires. Invites details.
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enjoy a tag of nothing
eats it
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elbows an extra tag in here
owie
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yet another tag of nothing
nothing but uwu eyes
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