Lestat is listening, including during the momentary silence where Louis is considering his answer. He has asked him a question as if seeking advice. He has asked him a question that will only give him a fragment of what he wants to know, when answered.
Aware of the plot twist. Of Armand's lies unveiled over the course of the story, of the kind of avenues Molloy has assisted in exploring. Aware that he owes the newly made fledgling some debt for his own personal reemergence into the world, for Louis' freedom of the things he did not know, could not remember.
Aware, also, that he only understands a part of it.
"Perhaps," he agrees. "I'm glad it was good for you."
See how gracious he can be? Hopefully, Louis is noticing.
No burdens whatsoever. They can stay light and free of each other. They can drift in and out of each others' lives like clouds.
Lestat smiles across at him, a pursed kind of expression, before he says, "And you have no apprehensions? No fears of what truths or contradictions I may introduce to the narrative?"
More teasing. Caught between wishing to know, and knowing Louis does not care. No care for what mortals think of him, of them, of Lestat. An admirable quality in a vampire who has chosen to live his life in a fake city in a big tower, away from it all.
Louis has behaved. He is the one who imposed this distance, this space between them. He is the one now who flouts it, reaching to link his fingers with Lestat's, straightening from his graceful slouch.
"No," he answers. "Wouldn't be fair of me to influence yours, since you ain't influenced mine."
It goes unspoken, who had exerted influence over Louis' interview.
But it's not the point. Louis' grip tightens, the smile he slants over to Lestat soft-edged and fond.
"I want you to say whatever it is you need to say. All your truths, all your contradictions. Don't hold any part of it back, especially not on my account."
Knowing that maybe Lestat would withhold. He always had, keeping his past out of Louis' reach. How little Louis knew of him, outside of their lives together. Impossible to say whether or not Lestat intended to maintain that in his documentary work with Daniel. He could easily manage it, if the goal was only to speak of what Louis had already divulged.
Something like holding his breath when Louis takes his hand. It's been decades and decades and his body remembers the instinct: here, Lestat might draw Louis in, or here, he would drift closer, or bring that hand up to his chest, his mouth. Ghosts of things.
Receives it all the same, fingers hooking, keeping, while gazing across at him and absorbing these things he says. How petty he feels, all at once, in the face of this gentle generousity, this fondness, all suffused soft into the tone of Louis' voice.
"And will you be listening?" is also familiar, a little tug in his tone to politely request attention, validation, flattery.
A question that Louis feels is very fair, even if the possibility of being told no is agonizing. What a test of his resolve, being asked to never listen to whatever it is Lestat confides to Daniel in the course of their work.
"You are invited especially to my destination party with a specially pressed vinyl recording of my song, and given unlimited invitation to my American tour, and you imagine that there are things I have to say or do that I would not invite your attention?"
Lestat gives a little playful swing of their linked hands, before letting Louis' go, bringing his own behind himself to link together as he says, "Yes. Of course. Besides, it is only fair."
Useless, foolish impulse. Louis had left. Louis had imposed space between them. Louis is here now, measuring himself against all the people who touch Lestat freely and easily without decades of baggage and envying them all the privilege.
All his old jealousies, alive and well. Daniel would laugh to hear him.
So released, Louis makes a small gesture in the air, dismissive of the concept of fair. A little late, after Louis has unearthed their history already.
"Just wanna be sure you get what you need from it, without letting me be a distraction."
Or worse, a tempering influence. Interfering, when that is the last thing he wishes to do.
Strangely, the thought of its occurrence gives him no pleasure at all. One would imagine, camera and lights, a revenge fantasy, intensive attention, a global debut of his own story would appeal, and maybe it does, but there is something to it that feels like going to war. Maybe against Louis, but this feels far from likely in this moment.
But against the murmurings he hears in the world. The mortals with his name in their minds, their mouths. The vampires, murmuring their threats and schemes and plotting out into the ocean of the Many, giving them something to really talk about. Yes, something exciting about it, but more akin to the feeling one has the split second before caving to anger than the adoration he'd been stoking downstairs.
Maybe there will be something else to be gained. Clarity, redemption, revelation. He isn't banking on it.
But smiles across at Louis, enduring his graciousness, his kindness, the way it is all completely sincere. He wonders what it would do to them if they fucked. If they fought.
"Well," he says, a look tossed aside, as if distracted by some little sound somewhere, "we shall see how our schedules align. You are not obliged."
Discarding the topic, having not quite managed to bait what he'd wanted. But still, friendly, his step near, a hand to Louis' arm.
"Come. They'll start wondering what it is the Vampire Lestat has done with that handsome man he was seen with earlier. I will introduce you to the rest of the band." Larry and Alex, some of the other musicians, perhaps. Show Louis off to them, this vampire he made, who loved him once.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Aware of the plot twist. Of Armand's lies unveiled over the course of the story, of the kind of avenues Molloy has assisted in exploring. Aware that he owes the newly made fledgling some debt for his own personal reemergence into the world, for Louis' freedom of the things he did not know, could not remember.
Aware, also, that he only understands a part of it.
"Perhaps," he agrees. "I'm glad it was good for you."
See how gracious he can be? Hopefully, Louis is noticing.
no subject
Louis has had some time to consider how seamless Armand's work to be. How Daniel, as skilled as he is, is not all-seeing.
But these are not the kinds of existential fears to burden Lestat with.
Louis tips his head back to him, a private little smile, rueful and tender both.
"I hope it is good for you," is what he offers. "I hope it is what you wish it to be."
And if he is envious of Daniel for receiving all that Lestat might say of his past—
That too is not something to burden Lestat with.
no subject
Lestat smiles across at him, a pursed kind of expression, before he says, "And you have no apprehensions? No fears of what truths or contradictions I may introduce to the narrative?"
More teasing. Caught between wishing to know, and knowing Louis does not care. No care for what mortals think of him, of them, of Lestat. An admirable quality in a vampire who has chosen to live his life in a fake city in a big tower, away from it all.
Must be nice.
no subject
"No," he answers. "Wouldn't be fair of me to influence yours, since you ain't influenced mine."
It goes unspoken, who had exerted influence over Louis' interview.
But it's not the point. Louis' grip tightens, the smile he slants over to Lestat soft-edged and fond.
"I want you to say whatever it is you need to say. All your truths, all your contradictions. Don't hold any part of it back, especially not on my account."
Knowing that maybe Lestat would withhold. He always had, keeping his past out of Louis' reach. How little Louis knew of him, outside of their lives together. Impossible to say whether or not Lestat intended to maintain that in his documentary work with Daniel. He could easily manage it, if the goal was only to speak of what Louis had already divulged.
no subject
Receives it all the same, fingers hooking, keeping, while gazing across at him and absorbing these things he says. How petty he feels, all at once, in the face of this gentle generousity, this fondness, all suffused soft into the tone of Louis' voice.
"And will you be listening?" is also familiar, a little tug in his tone to politely request attention, validation, flattery.
no subject
A question that Louis feels is very fair, even if the possibility of being told no is agonizing. What a test of his resolve, being asked to never listen to whatever it is Lestat confides to Daniel in the course of their work.
no subject
Lestat gives a little playful swing of their linked hands, before letting Louis' go, bringing his own behind himself to link together as he says, "Yes. Of course. Besides, it is only fair."
no subject
Louis cannot help but note it.
Useless, foolish impulse. Louis had left. Louis had imposed space between them. Louis is here now, measuring himself against all the people who touch Lestat freely and easily without decades of baggage and envying them all the privilege.
All his old jealousies, alive and well. Daniel would laugh to hear him.
So released, Louis makes a small gesture in the air, dismissive of the concept of fair. A little late, after Louis has unearthed their history already.
"Just wanna be sure you get what you need from it, without letting me be a distraction."
Or worse, a tempering influence. Interfering, when that is the last thing he wishes to do.
no subject
Strangely, the thought of its occurrence gives him no pleasure at all. One would imagine, camera and lights, a revenge fantasy, intensive attention, a global debut of his own story would appeal, and maybe it does, but there is something to it that feels like going to war. Maybe against Louis, but this feels far from likely in this moment.
But against the murmurings he hears in the world. The mortals with his name in their minds, their mouths. The vampires, murmuring their threats and schemes and plotting out into the ocean of the Many, giving them something to really talk about. Yes, something exciting about it, but more akin to the feeling one has the split second before caving to anger than the adoration he'd been stoking downstairs.
Maybe there will be something else to be gained. Clarity, redemption, revelation. He isn't banking on it.
But smiles across at Louis, enduring his graciousness, his kindness, the way it is all completely sincere. He wonders what it would do to them if they fucked. If they fought.
"Well," he says, a look tossed aside, as if distracted by some little sound somewhere, "we shall see how our schedules align. You are not obliged."
Discarding the topic, having not quite managed to bait what he'd wanted. But still, friendly, his step near, a hand to Louis' arm.
"Come. They'll start wondering what it is the Vampire Lestat has done with that handsome man he was seen with earlier. I will introduce you to the rest of the band." Larry and Alex, some of the other musicians, perhaps. Show Louis off to them, this vampire he made, who loved him once.