The tour begins and continues in a predictable blur. Sold out venues, a scattering of fans with a souvenir in the form of bite marks on their throats. Pictures of the latter circulating social media, internet sleuthing to discern the forgeries from the real thing. Hot takes about the entitlement of celebrities, of psychopaths and public delusional behaviour being enabled by record labels, of passionate claims that vampirism is real. Noise gathering, brewing.

A different kind of noise to the amassing of vampire threats still leveled at Louis, public enemy number one, but a new current now. Is the flashy human masquerading as one of their kind the real thing? Has anyone gotten close enough to know? Do any of them dare say it?

Lestat has enough to deal with. Screaming matches with Cookie about a new arrangement, making it up to her in the dark room on the bus. Arguments with Christine about an endless calendar of radio interviews and podcasts. Snarling at Larry for being too quiet, at Alex for being too chatty.

So it goes. They're all getting paid for living out their dreams. It keeps a band together.

And there is Louis, in between, showing up, sometimes in the audience and sometimes backstage. Always time to speak, before a performance or after. Lestat has recovered well from his minor meltdown that first evening. They speak of art, they speak of music, of travel. They don't speak of vampire threats.

It is his second night in Dallas. A party the previous night had continued well into the next, a small group invited to his room with its heavyduty blackout curtains. Cocaine, vodka, and several eager fans that includes a young man in a cowboy hat that Lestat enjoyed stealing after he drank from his thick neck. His name is Noah and Lestat is in love with him, he thinks, falling asleep on his six pack just as Cookie is pounding on his hotel room door to tell him the car is here to take them to the venue.

Hopefully a twenty second nap will suit him. He asks Noah if he wants to come. Noah says yes.