~ blood now and again. They continue on, walking hand-in-hand but soon find themselves at the townhome. “I bought it again,” he confesses. “I was sentimental and . . . needed something to remind me of you.”

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~ together, Lestat laughs. Lifting Louis’ hand, he kisses it affectionately. “I think only depression, desperation, and /you/ could make me eat rats.” And as he is neither desperate nor depressed, only Louis remains. “I will treat it as a small appetizer.” He does need to indulge in human ~

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In spite of what he is, Lestat had always been drawn towards goodness. Louis, he has always thought, is good. Perhaps pure in a way he could never be. Then again, that might be the blind love talking. After all these years, he never stopped loving him. At the comment about snacking on rats ~

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~ old days.” But in the old days, there was Claudia, too. That is a wound he does not think ever will fully mend, but . . . this is a start. “When we thought we owned the night. Or I did. You enjoyed snacking on rats,” he teases.

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It is true. No one would love Louis as deeply as he does. At least, that is Lestat’s measure of the depth of his own love. Things feel right again with Louis’ hand in his. Tilting his head towards the moonlit sky, the vampire breathes in the balmy night air. “We used to do this often in the ~

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