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    Summary

    "And you’re a pain in my ass, but I know this is important to you. And you’re…fuck.” He kept walking. Lestat began to follow again, a recognition of old worship washing over him. “You’re important to me.” He said, facing forward. Onward. “Claudia is gone.” Her name felt like spikes in Lestat’s ears. “My only fledgling is gone. The man I was with for 77 years directed their deaths, and then turned the one fucking guy I liked to talk to into a harbinger of death and tried to force him into my care. I’m pissed at him. Pissed is the understatement of the millenia, even.” Lestat tried to speak, tried to seize this opportunity to remind Louis of the beauty of their reconciliation, but: “I’m pissed at you! You won’t stop slandering me in public, won’t stop writing songs about how much you want to fuck me at the same time. You make me so angry, and I still–” Lestat almost thought he’d say it.

    He didn’t.

    OR

    Lestat and Louis, while trying to retrieve Nicolas' music box from the Talamasca, have a lot to work through.

    Language:
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