They could blame Armand, but it feels to Louis not unlike blaming a train for running on tracks. Louis didn't do enough to get Claudia off them. Wasn't enough, in the end.

But Lestat is asking a question.

Louis turns his fingers in his own, playing with bare knuckles. Where are Lestat's rings? What became of all his finery, the things that had been his before Louis had helped him strip all of New Orleans for the purpose of outfitting his home, which would become their home?

A question for after. Or not a question at all, only a challenge. Louis is good at finding items.

Silence stretches. Louis' thumb slips across the pad of Lestat's fingers, across his palm. Eventually:

"I threw him out. I'm not sure where he will go."

And this too, a little sickening to navigate. Some part of Louis feeling an ache, a kind of pity. He will hate this too, maybe. Hate it as he hated his persistent love for Lestat, a thing that felt like a betrayal.

"It's going to take some untangling."

Marriage, an intricate thing. All the shared pieces of their life will be there in Dubai when Louis returns, waiting.

"But it's done. Me and him."