It won't be the same, and it's taken as the assurance it's intended to be. Louis entering his shack and speaking such insight, reflection, wisdom, as though he had not spent decades hating and hating after all.
Lestat nods, barely, and it only needs to be that much with how close they are. Then, he noses in closer still so he can kiss Louis' mouth, like he had not been able to do for so long, like he had felt was a transgression even before that, when all things fell apart.
Gentle, sweet, brief.
"We visit Paris," he tells him. "When we leave this place."
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Lestat nods, barely, and it only needs to be that much with how close they are. Then, he noses in closer still so he can kiss Louis' mouth, like he had not been able to do for so long, like he had felt was a transgression even before that, when all things fell apart.
Gentle, sweet, brief.
"We visit Paris," he tells him. "When we leave this place."
is this how territory
To go together to Paris. To walk streets together. See what changed. See what remains.
To do it all without Claudia.
Louis kisses his mouth once more. Murmurs, "Yeah. We go to Paris."
And remember her. Their daughter. Claudia.