"I'm not complaining about the reception. Feels right."

Walking into a hurricane, walking out of it with Lestat.

Sitting here now with him, watching as Lestat sips from the cup and suppresses the urge to prod at him, question whether or not it's to his taste. To drag an opinion out of him and dissect it. Some part of him wanting an argument, wanting to see Lestat's teeth.

Veers away from the impulse, offers, "I need some time. I can't...I need to figure what's left of me and what I want to make of it. If I got you..."

A trailing breath out. Overwhelming, the way he feels for Lestat even now. Louis can't do anything but feel it, to the exclusion of all else.