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[interviewee]

This is Louis de Pointe du Lac. Leave a message.

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[interviewee]

[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.]

[unwillingdevil]

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.]

[interviewee]

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.

[unwillingdevil]

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.]

[interviewee]

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.]

OK to wrap here?

[unwillingdevil]

[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.

yep!

[interviewee]