interviewee | INBOX;

M. de Pointe du Lac,

If you are not otherwise engaged on Christmas Eve, my sister is holding a Christmas ball, and it would be lovely to see you again. We have recently obtained a nicer house, and there will be plenty of dancing.

Warmly,
Anthony Bridgerton

Anthony,

I would be delighted to join you on Christmas Eve. If I may be bold to ask, may I bring a plus one? He’s missed dancing a great deal.

Yours,
Louis de Pointe du Lac

M. de Pointe du Lac,

Of course. The Ball is open to everyone. I wrote to ensure you would you would feel personally welcome, but you may bring whoever you wish.

Sincerely,
Anthony

[ look maybe louis needs a personal invitation!!! he doesn't know how vampires work. ]

[It’s cute and Louis loves that he got a personal invitation.]

Anthony,

I thank you for the personal invitation. I am flattered that you would think of me specifically. I hope you might save a dance for me.

Yours,
Louis de Pointe de Lac

M. de Pointe du Lac,

I certainly will, and I look forward to your attendance.

Yours,
Anthony

[Louis receives a present delivered to his room in the Down Public Housing.

The gift contains one of the following (your choice or at random):
• a couple pairs of warm winter socks,
• mittens (fleece-lined wool),
• a knitted bobble hat,
• a small tropical peppermint cake (homemade from a Tyrian recipe--peppermint roll cake with mango compote), or
• some peppermint omnomberry bars (likewise homemade; in the absence of real omnomberries, he's substituted lingonberry and redcurrant).

The hats, mittens, and socks are not homemade but store bought and in a variety of colours and patterns--your choice!

For an optional encounter with the giver, go here.]

[At some point after finding her gifts, Claudia will either flag Louis down or else leave the small wrapped box at his door (assuming he still lives in Public Housing and is easy enough to find that way). Inside is an expensive-looking pocket watch and chain. On the back is engraved a message: For every precious moment. She's also included a note that reads The time that we have here together is all the gift I could ask for, and I cherish it with my whole heart. Love always, Claudia.]

Thank you, Claudia. The gift is beautiful and your wishes are mine as well. Let's have dinner some time, just the two of us.

[ on christmas eve day, daphne has an arrangment of pink roses sent to louis' room, as well as a small wrapped package. inside is a single hand embroidered white handkerchief with a pattern of fleur-de-lis at its corner.

a simple card attached reads, Happy Christmas, Monsieur Louis. I do not know a grand deal about France yet, but I have learned that this symbol is important there? I hope it finds you well. I am glad you have met my family and I. Yours, Daphne Basset ]

Daphne,

You're correct. The Fleur de Lis is important both in France and New Orleans. I deeply appreciate your thoughtfulness and considerable craft. The handkerchief is beautiful. And the roses are a welcome spot of color in my room.

Thank you,
Louis

[Louis' has only been gone for a mere few minutes when the first message arrives. It's fairly obvious from Lestat's tone of voice that he's been crying.]

Louis, come home. Please. I did not hide this from you to hurt you. I wanted you to be happy in this place, with a home and a business you wanted.

[The second voicemail comes several minutes later, when it's clear Louis is intending to stay away. Lestat's voice is still ragged.]

Louis, I am sorry that this has distressed you. Truly, I am. I did not wish to cause you upset with this. Please just come home.

[The third comes after about an hour, when it's blatantly apparent Louis is not coming home anytime soon.]

You tell me to share myself with you, Louis, and when I do, you run. You ask for my honesty and then you hate me for what you hear. And you leave me for it, yet again.

Am I truly the only dishonest one of the two of us, mon mari?

[Louis tells himself not to respond. He almost calls back after the second, but he's determined to hold fast.

After the third, he can't help himself.

Ring ring!]

[Lestat’s mind is fuzzy. He doesn’t entirely remember his day before the current moment, and he can see the dried tracks of tears down his face. But he doesn’t recall why he might have wept, and otherwise all seems normal — and then Louis is calling, and he puts those thoughts aside. Best to answer and then figure the rest out.]

Allo?

[Louis is surprised, to say the least, by the casual greeting. Something is off, something is wrong.]

You called. [His voice is stiff.]

[There’s a long beat as Lestat tries to sort out what’s happening. He can tell from Louis’ tone that he is angry, but he remembers nothing and has no context to work with.]

…and what did I say?

Where do I start?

[Louis tries to swallow down some of the anger roiling in his gut.]

That you'd rather whore yourself out? That you bled out in New Orleans for me? That I don't want to hear your honesty?

[Ohhhhh boy. He’d like to say that this is all entirely fresh information, but he can recognize glimmers of thoughts he’s had before. Things he’d certainly never intended to express to Louis but that seem to be fully on display now.]

I don’t remember this.

[Said in a tone that indicates that he believes it happened but that he also suspects city shenanigans have occurred.

Already feeling a simmering tiredness in his tone:]

What happened?

We were talking. I asked a couple of questions and then you got real honest. About a lot of stuff I had no idea about.

[The heat remains in Louis's voice as he talks.]

And then you hit me with this.

[There's a click and then Lestat's voice plays,] You tell me to share myself with you, Louis, and when I do, you run. You ask for my honesty and then you hate me for what you hear. And you leave me for it, yet again.

Am I truly the only dishonest one of the two of us, mon mari?

[He takes a breath.] I don't hate you, Lestat.

[Lestat listens with a slowly sinking sense of understanding. He doesn’t understand why, precisely, he was dropping blunt truths —- or why he’s forgotten it all —- but the rest grows clearer as Louis speaks.

And then, well, he can recognize the tone of his own anger.

After a beat, he answers:]

But you did leave, then?

I'm staying with friends for a day or two. Needed to cool down.

[Louis replies simply, without remorse.]

Then I was not wrong, it seems.

[There’s a terse sound to his own tone then. If Louis thought the voice message would be some grand card to play, it falls flat as Lestat pieces out the rest — Louis hearing him speak and then fleeing, and then feeling injured for being called on it.]

Guess you weren't.

[Louis's irritation continues and he knows he needs to get his head on straight before he returns.]

Seems we're all exactly who we used to be.

We are, I imagine. Except I made the mistake of being honest, it seems, that I had whored myself out for the auditors?

[It’s phrased like a question, but he knows that must have been it. He’s not sure what else he would have described as such.

And the thing that truly grinds him is that, for all his failings, this was one he would defend. He had protected Louis from the city’s humiliations and would do it again in a heartbeat. And yet Louis was furious all the same.]

Never fear. I shall not make such a mistake again.

[Being honest or whoring himself out? He won’t clarify.]

[Louis goes quiet, his anger defeated. He always wanted Lestat to share with him, but now he's ruined any chance of that.

He's done it to himself.

There is no high horse to sit on.

He's quiet for a minute, then two before he finally admits,]

I'm sorry, Lestat.

[But maybe he's broken this beyond repair.]

[The apology deflates him. He hadn’t expected it, and the soft sincerity of it knocks down the defensive walls building up in the heat of their argument.

And in truth, he does not want to be fighting, does not want to be back to slinging mud at each other. He can feel the pinpricks of tears forming in the corners of his eyes, and after a long moment he says:]

Just come home, Louis.

[Louis hates arguing with Lestat; it reminds him of their worst times in New Orleans. He knows the best thing to do is to come home. To come back and embrace his husband, to hold him and let him know that his honesty has not broken them.]

Alright. Let me pack my things up here and I'll be home.

[And, true to his word, Louis is back at the townhouse in about an hour. He immediately looks around for Lestat.]

Lestat?

[Lestat is a subtle wreck for the next hour. He believes that Louis will be true to his word, but he cannot help himself from weeping and quietly tormenting himself with the idea that Louis won’t return.

For a while, he remembers one of their early fights in New Orleans, the spiteful declaration ‘Thats why you’re always gonna be alone’. He remembers even further back, before Louis and before New Orleans, hearing Armand sneer that it was only a matter of time before his companions would abandon him.

When the door opens, his heart leaps. Lestat stands immediately, his face streaked with the remains of dried tears, but he doesn’t care. Immediately, he moves towards Louis, gathering him into his arms.]

Louis —-

[Drops his bag the moment that he sees Lestat, he curls his arms tight around Lestat as they embrace. He buries his face in Lestat's neck, drinking in the smell of him.

Louis smells vaguely of the Bridgerton-Basset home, but nothing strong enough to indicate that he had relations with either Anthony or Simon.]

I'm so sorry I left.

[Lestat could weep again at the words and the feel of Louis in his arms once more. He buries his face in Louis’ neck in turn, wrapping closer around him. The scent tells the story of where he’s been and he is grateful that he came back, that it only took an hour before he’d come home.]

Just stay. Just stay here with me.

I will. I promise. I'll stay.

[Louis tilts his face just enough to press a kiss to Lestat's cheek before re-burying his face in Lestat's neck. His arms cling to Lestat, pull him in tight.]

I'm sorry.

[As much as Lestat wants to be more stoic, he can't, not with the wash of shame and sadness and relief that have roiled through him. Bloody tears blot the collar of Louis' collar where he's buried into his neck, his fingers gripping tight to the fabric of his shirt.]

I didn't even know where you'd gone, just that you'd left and something was wrong.

I can't -- I cannot keep watching you storm away.

I won't do it again, I swear. [And Louis means it, no matter how quickly the vow has been sworn. He'd known he made a mistake almost as soon as he'd walked out the door, but told himself that he needed time to cool down.] No matter what happens.

[Louis sucks in a breath.] I knew it was something that would hurt you but I did it anyway.

[He really is exactly who he was when he left New Orelans. He hasn't changed.]

All right.

All right.

[He knows Louis did it to hurt him, same as in New Orleans when he had told Lestat he'd always be alone, then dashed back with Claudia hours later. It's the same song and dance they've done before, even then -- Louis on his knees, swearing to never leave while Claudia charred and wheezed on the carpet.

Lestat wants to believe they are better than they were, but in the end, does it matter? He'll take Louis back every time, bury himself in his arms on each return. Perhaps he really is who he was in New Orleans, at least in that much.]

What happened?

It start with you acting kind of off. I asked a couple of questions and you were being, well, not yourself. No offense, but you have this tendency to dance around answers when you don't want to answer them.

[Louis pulls back just enough to look into Lestat's eyes.]

This time you weren't. And I asked another question then another. I kept getting angrier. You told me about the auditors, how you... [Louis sags, he doesn't want to say this part out loud.

However, in the spirit of being honest.] How you 'whored' yourself out to save the gallery and this townhouse. I didn't know what other secrets you'd been keeping from me so I kept asking.

And then you mentioned what I did to you in New Orleans and I couldn't listen to it any more.

[Louis could have stopped asking questions far before the topic of New Orleans came up, but he'd done it to himself and punished Lestat for his own transgressions.]

I lost it. And I wanted to hurt you. So I left.

[Lestat listens, feeling uneasy at the unsettlingly true description of his own indirect style of speaking. And then Louis continues to explain, and he has the slow-sinking realization that he had likely had no choice but to speak plainly. And Louis had asked him directly, asked for answers that Lestat would have known not to give.

He looks at Louis while he speaks, his eyes rimmed red while an uneasy understanding settles in.]

So you did.

[He doesn't know how to respond to this. Lestat doesn't want to argue, but he is left with the feeling that his own secrecy had been the wiser call in the end, the easiest way to keep Louis from lashing out in anger. And yet Louis had pressed for answers he hadn't truly wanted all the same.]

[And now the guilt settles in. Louis keeps his gaze set on Lestat, eyes beginning to redden around the edges with the beginning of tears.]

I... was wrong. What I did was wrong.

[Louis takes in another breath.]

I'm sorry.

[He feels like they're on different footing, like his mishap at the Christmas Ball.]

And you don't have to take me back if that's what you decide.

[It would most certainly cause Louis to drop into a deep depression, he'd bury himself in books, he'd never forgive himself for ruining the best thing in his life.]

[He deflates again at that, because of course Louis in his deep wells of anxiety would think this would be enough to make Lestat leave. Lestat gathers him closer, arms winding tighter as he presses a kiss to Louis' cheek.]

Do not say such a thing. As if I could so easily tear myself away from you. As if I could ever toss you inside.

[And quietly, he realizes where the mention of New Orleans must have come from -- because the truth is, he's not sure there is anything that would make him leave. If Louis had come back to him even after his neck had been cut, Lestat would have not hesitated to reunite again.]

[Louis almost doesn't allow himself to be pulled in. He feels the kiss to his cheek but, he doesn't feel he deserves it after all he's done.]

I manipulated you, Lestat. I'm toxic.

[Because it's true. Who would provoke their loved one and then act on that loved one's greatest fear?

He's nothing worth loving.]

[Lestat exhales slowly, seeing the wheels of Louis' mind spinning. He presses a kiss to Louis' mouth, lingering even if Louis does not return it.]

As if I am some saint. As if I do not have my own moments of poisonous words.

[He leans his forehead to the crook of Louis' neck, drinking in the scent of him. Louis' heartbeat thuds beneath his skin, and Lestat aches knowing he could not leave him, that he never wishes to.]

Just stay. Please, please just stay.

[Louis's fingers play at Lestat's shirt, his heart continuing to sink even as Lestat kisses him.]

I'll stay if you do.

[If Lestat still wants him. If Lestat can stand what Louis has done to him.]

Of course I will.

[He runs his fingers across Louis' back, fingers twisting in his shirt. Lestat could not leave him, not for this or anything else, and it aches him that the dark corners of Louis' mind might make him think otherwise.]

You are my heart, cher. I want to walk eternity with you.

[Louis leans into Lestat's shoulder, his arms curling stronger around Lestat.]

I'm so sorry, Lestat.

[The fact that Lestat wants him back in any capacity speaks to the depths of change that have affected Lestat.]

It's all right, my Louis. It's all right.

[He gathers Louis in closer to him, one arm wrapping up his back as he leans in. Lestat drags his nails in soothing lines down Louis' scalp, tracing gentle trails through his hair.]

You cannot scare me away so easily as all that. I wish to have you with me always.

I won't forgive myself.

[Louis remains where he is, half slung in Lestat's arms.]

[Lestat sighs softly, nestling his face against the side of Louis' head.]

Ever the Catholic you are, my Louis. If only there were a priest here for you to confess to.

[Still gently stroking his nails through his hair, he murmurs:]

Shall I give you another penance to pay? Something else to let you atone, if it eases your soul?

Not sure if anything will ease it right now.

[Louis doesn't understand how Lestat is forgiving him so easily. Lestat has every right to be angry with him. To hate him. Louis leans up and looks at Lestat, really looks at him. How? How can Lestat forgive him?

Yes, Louis will stay, but perhaps he will bury himself in books as he replays the incident in his head.]

How are you not pissed at me?

I am angry with you.

[It burns less brightly now than it did a moment before, but it's still there. Now it sits as an unhappy frustration -- at Louis pushing for things he knew Lestat did not want to discuss, at being punished by Louis when the answers he'd asked for appeared. At how Louis had wanted to hurt him and did it so easily, even if it shifted to regret.]

But I don't want you to leave, either.

[Well there's one thing that makes sense in all of this. Lestat's anger is well-earned and Louis nods.]

I won't leave, Lestat. I promise.

[He won't use Lestat's fear against him ever, ever again.]

Good. Good.

[If there is frustration there still, then he knows it will dissipate so long as Louis stays. It can be worked past. They've managed through much worse than this before.

Lestat lets out a long exhale, face still buried into Louis' neck, hands still curled against him.]

I just want you to be happy, Louis.

[Whatever form that takes. If it means whoring himself out, fucking who he's told, then fair enough. If it means the gallery, the house, if it means keeping quiet when the city makes demands meant to shame him, then that's what he will do.]

I know, Lestat.

[Louis leans in to press a kiss to Lestat’s forehead and lingers there.]

I know.

[He still doesn’t want Lestat to whore himself out or put himself at risk for Louis’s happiness, but he doesn’t want to broach that subject again now.]

I love you.

I love you, too, cher.

[He feels entirely drained and tired, bloody tears still rimming his eyes. But he loves Louis more than anything else across the centuries, and to have him there in his arms is a warmth that he can hold onto. It's enough to blot out any lingering anger, enough that he knows it will die down given time.]

Let's go upstairs, lay down. You're probably exhausted.

[And Louis will join him, but he's not sure how much sleep he might get.]

[Lestat nods at that, the emotion winding down through him. He smiles faintly, nestling into Louis' neck once more before pulling back.]

All right. Let us go upstairs, then.

INBOX;

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Christmas Eve Delivery

Christmas Gift

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christmas gifts!

Letter Delivered to Bridgerton-Basset house

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voice --> action

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OK to wrap here?

yep!