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.
"Really," Lestat says, to Daniel. Not quite a question. Surprise without disbelief. Flattering, maybe, as far as his sketchy mental image of a Daniel pre-vampire goes. But perhaps it makes sense, the way lonely people might find each other, make odd connections.
He means Daniel and Louis, of course.
But Louis asks this, and Lestat looks at him down the length of his arm. "Oh, when we began to travel together," he says, and it's true—he speaks at a normal volume that still somehow winds through with perfectly clarity the sounds of old speakers, bad singing, a crowd of people. "Hunting as well. It had," back to Daniel, "been some time for me as well."
Ayup. He shrugs at Lestat, hands spread. The older vampire is only familiar with him through his rejuvenated state, his celebration of his unlife— never met the dying, cranky man suffering from chronic pain who sat in Louis' penthouse. No friends, no reason to go out. Even before Parkinson's, even before the pandemic; illness and quarantine did not make him unpleasant, or distrustful, or disinclined to go bar crawling without a specific mission in mind. Bridge destruction has been a lifelong hobby.
It's nice to be here. It's nice to have fucking superpowers, and steady hands, and a spiraling career he's set on fire. Fun, in fact.
"Pleasant company," he says. "For a couple of old guys leaving the house for the first time in a while."
It's nothing Louis hasn't said before: he likes this, their friendship. He'd liked that Lestat was traveling with Daniel. He likes that they have this, a connection.
Louis can like it, and envy it at the same time. It doesn't take anything away from his expression softening, looking between them as his thumb strokes along Lestat's knuckles.
How small Louis' world has become. But even if it spins out beyond him, vast and crowded, Louis is certain there will be no one else he loves more than these two.
Aloud, he summarizes, "And now you're here."
The pair of them. Out in the world. Louis glossing over whatever has been obscured from him. Whatever adventures occupy Lestat and Daniel's time when Louis is apart from them, maybe better untold.
It's nice that Lestat can laugh about it now. He can laugh about it now because he is no longer in a half-flooded mold-infested cottage collecting cobwebs between throwing objects at his worst fledgling to make himself feel better. No, he is here instead, Louis holding his hand with a soft expression, and Daniel certainly could have told him to kick rocks outside of the train station that night.
Or he was too afraid to do so. Which is fine too, because it's fine now.
"You are here," Lestat says. "Lured down from your tower at last. And to think, all we had to do was ask."
There is a tiny crack in the proverbial door, in which Daniel could feel jealous— he's been trying to get Louis out of the tower for a while now, but it took Lestat to get Louis to do it. Do it pretty quickly, in fact.
But he doesn't push the door open. He's just grateful. It's clear they both need this, and Daniel is happy they're able to, happy Louis found a reason to shift, get a different perspective on the outside world. Dubai is an artificial bubble even if he did ever go down for a walk out among the humans.
"He was picking his moment, fashionably."
Helping.
And now— Ah! Jeannie and Mark are up. Daniel will do his level best not to take out his phone like somebody's dad, but he will fail in about thirty seconds.
By them both. An invitation made fairly stridently if Louis is recalling right, but he is not so eager to invoke it now when everyone is having a nice time and thinking not at all about vampires that would like to tear Louis apart.
And besides, Jeannie and Mark are going to sing.
Louis turns obediently towards the stage. A flash of memory: Claudia, rehearsing, looking out into the theater to find him. It twists hard in his chest.
Claudia would have liked karaoke, Louis is certain.
A mental detour that wards against the impulse to let go of Lestat's hand first. Louis retains it while Jeannie and Mark perform, and Daniel films, and the bar chatters and whoops and applauds around them.
It is a pleasant song with a pleasant melody, and Jeannie's voice is likewise pleasant. Also, she has been flattering enough, effusive enough in her praise for Lestat to reward this with his attention in kind. His current fill of vodka untouched on the table.
Not because he doesn't want to drink it, but Louis has the hand he would need to do so easily, and has perhaps forgotten.
Then he thinks, I would like to dance to this, and as was always so when such a thought occurred to him, in a time and place long lost to them both, it's enough for Lestat to get to his feet, turn, use his held hand to try to invite Louis up with him. And it only occurs to him once he is doing so that he might be shot down with real protest instead of the fake protest he is still, even now, used to batting side, on account of how they aren't actually together anymore, and perhaps never will be.
Well, he is quite charming. A way about him, he has read. Tonight's way is a silly smile and visible mischief inherent in asking Louis for a turn about the nearby patch of floor by the table in which no one else is dancing.
Plus he has fire powers and can self-immolate if he has to.
Real protest is not entirely off the table. There is some part of Louis that balks, a complex tangle of emotion at Lestat's light tug.
Aware they are in public.
Remembering New Orleans. Remembering their ball, but remembering beyond that. Remembering their home. Remembering Lestat drawing Louis into an embrace, a waltz. The years before Claudia, the years after, when she would join them and they three would dance together.
And now here, in a very public bar, Lestat rises to his feet and means to draw Louis after him. The intention is clear, familiar even after eighty years.
Maybe Louis' hesitance is clear too. Balking, a stretch where he looks into Lestat's face, fingers tightening around his before he permits himself to be drawn up onto his feet.
There is no home for them. No private parlour, no courtyard. Likely no grand parties in their future, Lestat imagines. He will take what opportunities are there.
And for a moment, he thinks Louis won't. But then he does.
He is rewarded with a pleased smile, a subtle one, Lestat positioning their hands like a waltz and his hand finding Louis' waist. He does not wind himself around him like he might if they were making something different of their lives, but it's a friendly intimacy that he sways Louis into.
And maybe this close, Louis can tell that Lestat, also, is quite aware of time, of place. Of behaving in a way even men who were only friends would not risk doing in polite society, once, or even impolite society. And isn't it pleasurable, to exist in this era? Was not Lestat always saying, how profoundly the world can change? He has seen it. They see it now, together.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
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.
no subject
"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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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?"
no subject
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?
no subject
"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."
no subject
(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.
no subject
"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.
no subject
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.'
no subject
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?
no subject
"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?"
no subject
(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."
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
He means Daniel and Louis, of course.
But Louis asks this, and Lestat looks at him down the length of his arm. "Oh, when we began to travel together," he says, and it's true—he speaks at a normal volume that still somehow winds through with perfectly clarity the sounds of old speakers, bad singing, a crowd of people. "Hunting as well. It had," back to Daniel, "been some time for me as well."
In case Daniel had somehow failed to notice.
no subject
It's nice to be here. It's nice to have fucking superpowers, and steady hands, and a spiraling career he's set on fire. Fun, in fact.
"Pleasant company," he says. "For a couple of old guys leaving the house for the first time in a while."
They are friends, see.
no subject
Louis can like it, and envy it at the same time. It doesn't take anything away from his expression softening, looking between them as his thumb strokes along Lestat's knuckles.
How small Louis' world has become. But even if it spins out beyond him, vast and crowded, Louis is certain there will be no one else he loves more than these two.
Aloud, he summarizes, "And now you're here."
The pair of them. Out in the world. Louis glossing over whatever has been obscured from him. Whatever adventures occupy Lestat and Daniel's time when Louis is apart from them, maybe better untold.
no subject
Or he was too afraid to do so. Which is fine too, because it's fine now.
"You are here," Lestat says. "Lured down from your tower at last. And to think, all we had to do was ask."
no subject
But he doesn't push the door open. He's just grateful. It's clear they both need this, and Daniel is happy they're able to, happy Louis found a reason to shift, get a different perspective on the outside world. Dubai is an artificial bubble even if he did ever go down for a walk out among the humans.
"He was picking his moment, fashionably."
Helping.
And now— Ah! Jeannie and Mark are up. Daniel will do his level best not to take out his phone like somebody's dad, but he will fail in about thirty seconds.
no subject
By them both. An invitation made fairly stridently if Louis is recalling right, but he is not so eager to invoke it now when everyone is having a nice time and thinking not at all about vampires that would like to tear Louis apart.
And besides, Jeannie and Mark are going to sing.
Louis turns obediently towards the stage. A flash of memory: Claudia, rehearsing, looking out into the theater to find him. It twists hard in his chest.
Claudia would have liked karaoke, Louis is certain.
A mental detour that wards against the impulse to let go of Lestat's hand first. Louis retains it while Jeannie and Mark perform, and Daniel films, and the bar chatters and whoops and applauds around them.
no subject
Not because he doesn't want to drink it, but Louis has the hand he would need to do so easily, and has perhaps forgotten.
Then he thinks, I would like to dance to this, and as was always so when such a thought occurred to him, in a time and place long lost to them both, it's enough for Lestat to get to his feet, turn, use his held hand to try to invite Louis up with him. And it only occurs to him once he is doing so that he might be shot down with real protest instead of the fake protest he is still, even now, used to batting side, on account of how they aren't actually together anymore, and perhaps never will be.
Well, he is quite charming. A way about him, he has read. Tonight's way is a silly smile and visible mischief inherent in asking Louis for a turn about the nearby patch of floor by the table in which no one else is dancing.
Plus he has fire powers and can self-immolate if he has to.
no subject
Aware they are in public.
Remembering New Orleans. Remembering their ball, but remembering beyond that. Remembering their home. Remembering Lestat drawing Louis into an embrace, a waltz. The years before Claudia, the years after, when she would join them and they three would dance together.
And now here, in a very public bar, Lestat rises to his feet and means to draw Louis after him. The intention is clear, familiar even after eighty years.
Maybe Louis' hesitance is clear too. Balking, a stretch where he looks into Lestat's face, fingers tightening around his before he permits himself to be drawn up onto his feet.
no subject
And for a moment, he thinks Louis won't. But then he does.
He is rewarded with a pleased smile, a subtle one, Lestat positioning their hands like a waltz and his hand finding Louis' waist. He does not wind himself around him like he might if they were making something different of their lives, but it's a friendly intimacy that he sways Louis into.
And maybe this close, Louis can tell that Lestat, also, is quite aware of time, of place. Of behaving in a way even men who were only friends would not risk doing in polite society, once, or even impolite society. And isn't it pleasurable, to exist in this era? Was not Lestat always saying, how profoundly the world can change? He has seen it. They see it now, together.
The chorus hits. He twirls him.
enjoy a tag of nothing
eats it
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
elbows an extra tag in here
owie
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
yet another tag of nothing
nothing but uwu eyes
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)