Minor, reflexive resistance for the idea of leaving, of abandoning, when he has felt himself abandoned—and Lestat lets it pass, for the tone in Louis' voice, the clear hurt of it. He did leave. He did to Louis what, had Louis done to him, would have shattered his world. His hands tense again on his arms, relax.

And then it's a little uneasy, his relief for what comes next. Feels it anyway. How wretched, though. It sounds like doom more than love.

"Yes," Lestat answers, anyway. "Always. I am nothing without you."

An echo, as true now as it had been then.

"But I miss you," nudged over the line. "I miss the way things could be between us. Can they be this way again?"