He  chuckles  lightly  and  holds  up  his  hand  in  fake  surrender.  "Okay  I'll  Humor  you."  Pale  green  eyes  watch  each  movement  that  was  made.  It  was  surprisingly  easy  to  copy  the  way  Lestats  moved  along  the  keys.  "I  only  know  about  vampires  what  you  tell  me  but  that's  not  so  shocking.  Make  us  more  artful  predators."

He  looks  away  from  lestat  and  back  to  keys  lost  in  thought  for  a  second  as  he  explains  the  hearing  which  he  knew  about  just  how  it  never  occurred  to  him  how  it  could  affect  something  as  simple  as  music.  "Is  that  why  you  take  me  to  so  many  operas?"  He  asked,  turning  his  attention  back  to  playing  the  same  keys  his  lover  had.  "Because  there  is  a  lot  to  take  apart  there."  He  enjoyed  some  others;  he  rather  just  sit  there  and  watch  Lestat  enjoy  the  singing.  He  always  found  that  was  his  favourite  part  of  going  if  he  was  honest.

He  stops  playing  and  a  boyish  grin  creeps  onto  his  lips  as  he  leans  back  to  meet  his  lover's  eye  with  a  playful  glint  to  his  own.  "I  think  you're  bored."  He  takes  both  of  Lestat's  hands  into  his  own  hands.  "I  always  watch  you  play  even  when  you  think  I'm  lost  in  a  book.  I  sneak  glances  and  that's  the  only  time  when  I  do."  He  brings  Lestat's  hands  up  to  lips  so  he  could  press  a  kiss  to  the  back  of  them.  "I  used  to  draw  a  lot  as  a  child,  I  only  stopped  when  I  got  caught  by  my  mama."  He  shakes  his  head  at  the  memory  not  worth  bringing  it  up  and  lestat  doesn't  need  another  reason  to  hate  her.  "Would  you  like  me  to  read  to  you chéri?  What  are  you  in  the  mood  for  tonight?"

"Bored of you? Never." But he doesn't continue his protest as Louis takes his hands, his eyes dropping to watch, tracking as Louis brings them to his lips. "I must be very interesting, no? To steal focus from your - what are you reading now? The Autobiography of an Ex-Coloured Man? I pay attention, too." He smiles and tilts his head, blue gaze lingering on Louis' face, reclaiming one of his hands to thumb just below his lower lip. When he speaks of his dashed artistic inclinations, Lestat frowns.

"Caught? As if it were something to hide. Did it bring you joy? You are not in her home any longer, Louis. If you wish to draw, you should. I would love to see it." He leans in and kisses Louis sweetly on the lips. They're alone, and Louis is sharing memories with a rare openness. Not only Paul but now this! There is no reason to be self conscious. They love and support one another in this house. Then, smiling against Louis' lips, he laughs. He stays close, hand in Louis' lap, noses bumping. He finally pulls back if only so he's not cross-eyed staring, and so he can see the whole of Louis' face.

They are sharing an intimacy that does not always come easily to Louis. His beloved is not withholding, but he is reserved. It took a year for him to even contemplate kissing Lestat and while by now they've done much more, he appreciates this private affection. Not for anyone else to see, but just for him. His own expression is playful. "And what would you read for me? You have done well at your first piano lesson, I should reward you with first pick."

 'Start  from  the  beginning,  Louis'  He  shifts  the  mug  around  in  his  hands  as  if  he  is  being  honest  with  himself  he  doesn't  want  to  upset  Lestat  talking  about  what  happened  after  they  left  him.  After  he  left  him  for  dead  which  will  always  be  something  he'd  never  forgive  himself  for.  He  takes  a  longer  sip  as  he  works  out  the  best  way  to  start.  He  tells  him  about  how  they  travel  across  to  Europe  the  boat  trip  where  Claudia  had  planned  for  them  to  go,  he  hid  nothing  of  the  horrors  seen  or  they  did  to  survive  and  how  the  blood  was  sad  and  why  he  thought  that.

"Romania."  He  remembers  what  happened  there  most  clearly.  "Claudia  Came  across  a  vampire  if  you  could  even  call  it  that,  that  drank  blood  from  the  dead."  He  frowned  deeply  and  it  was  clear  there  was  disgust  to  his  words.  "It  was  decaying  and  disfigured,  its  maker  was  old  women,  Daciana  she  was  lost  to  her  own  sense  of  loneliness  making  soldiers  into  vampires  to  be  her  children."  He  lips  his  tongue  and  runs  over  his  teeth  before  he  bites  at  the  tip  of  tongue  before  he  goes  back  to  his  story.  "She  told  us  a  story  and  Claudia  invited  her  to  join  us.  She  agreed  then  threw  herself  into  a  fire."  He  shifts  as  he  felt  uncomfortable  recalling  it,  he  understood  now  what  loneliness  could  push  a  vampire  to  do.  "I  understand  why  loneliness  is  dangerous."  There  is  a  haunted  look  to  gaze  as  looks  down  at  the  blood  still  in  the  mug. 

He  knows  Lestat  isn't  going  to  be  pleased  when  he  tells  him  where  they  went  after  that.  "Then  it  was  Claudia's  idea  to  go  to  Paris."  He  says  it  quickly  so  he  could  best  watch  Lestat  reaction,  his  eyes  never  leaving  his.  "That's  where  she  is  now,  Paris  and  happily  there  with  the  coven."  He  starts  to  tap  his  nails  on  the  side  of  his  mug.  "She  was  when  I  left,  a  lot  could  have  changed  in  a  month.  The  coven  is  interesting...They  generally  welcomed  her  if  she  took  a  liking  to  Santiago.  Armand."  His  lips  twitch  lightly  at  the  name  as  he  shakes  his  head.  "He  was  very  intense.  I  wouldn't  say  I  trust  him  or  any  of  them  for  that  matter  but  Claudia  does  and  if  she  is  happy  and  safe  I  couldn't  care  less  about  the  Theatre  Des  Vampires."  He  rolls  his  eyes  at  the  name,  still  finding  it  in  very  poor  taste.  "Why  didn't  you  tell  me  about  starting  a  theatre?"  He  asks  softly  as  he  moves  to  lean  more  forward  as  moving  clearly  as  not  to  spook  Lestat.  “Or  the  great  laws  they  kept  bringing  those  up.”

"I  know  you  don't  owe  me  anything  from  before."  He  moved  the  blanket  off  himself  Lestat  of  course  had  been  right  the  warm  blood  had  helped  to  slowly  warm  him  up  again.  "But  did  you  not  tell  me  because  you  didn’t  trust  me  enough?  It  wouldn’t  have  changed  anything.  I  just-.”  He  stops  himself  mid  sentence  to  take  a  shaky  breath  to  calm  himself.  “Help  me  understand  why  because  I’d  never  force  you  to  tell  me  about  your  past,  that’s  for  you  to  tell  me  when  you're  ready.”  He  took  that  moment  to  finish  the  blood  so  he  could  put  the  mug  down  on  the  coffee  table. 

“Was  I  ever  trustworthy  enough  to  you?” 

Disfigured vampires, strange vampire women; it is clear to Lestat that Louis and Claudia experienced something that changed them, though he does not think Louis truly understands what it is to be alone. Before Lestat, Louis had Paul and Grace, and even when things had been bad between them, they had been together. Then, he had given Louis Claudia, and they had had each other even after they'd attempted to part from their maker. Louis has never been truly alone, left on a beach in Spain with nothing but his first fledgling's necklace and her newly shorn braid. Abandoned by the person he loved the most, left to wrestle with the knowledge that he was unwanted.

Even as a child, as a mortal, Lestat had been lonely. It had not changed in death. Was it this feral woman and her children that had made Louis understand? Or something more personal? Had Louis been lonely, even with Claudia? Had he thought of Lestat? Had he felt his absence as keenly as Lestat had felt is? He says nothing to challenge Louis' assertion. He doesn't want to argue nor does he wish to dismiss his fledgling's feelings. If Louis has learned what loneliness feels like, Lestat will not insist otherwise. Louis is complicated and feels things deeply, and clearly he has been moved.

"Some vampires lose the thread. They become so apart from their former humanity that they can appear monstrous even to us. Bad blood cannot make good vampires, no? And I am not surprised that the blood of the dead turns us into something else if it does not kill us. I am glad you were unharmed." He reaches out and puts a hand on Louis' forearm. He listens, nodding, and at the mention of Paris, his lips twitch as if to frown, though he attempts to school his expression into something neutral. Armand. Armand and Claudia. Claudia is with Armand and his coven. It is no immediate cause for panic, and yet something makes the hair stand up on the back of his neck for reasons he can't explain.

Perhaps for the same reasons he had left Armand in the first place. There is a cruelty to him, to the entire coven. He will not worry Louis, not just now. He bites his tongue. When Louis is done speaking, Lestat looks away and swallows. He pulls his hand back and looks at Louis as he leans in. "Louis, there is no one in the world I trust more than you. It has never been about trust. I would tell you everything, all of it, if I thought it would serve a purpose. I have given you everything I am. I have hidden nothing. If there are things you wish to know...I will do my best to answer but you know me. I am yours, mon cher, and I always have been, even when you did not want me.

"Armand and I, the theater, what happened in Paris...none of it mattered when I met you. I had thought I would never find joy again but I did. If Claudia has found a place among them, I'm happy for her. Perhaps it will be good for her. The theater was never for me. I simply shared the idea and donated generously to its creation. I left soon after. I was not lying when I told you there were vicious vampires out there in the world, Louis. I only ever wanted to keep you safe. Both of you." He reaches out for Louis' cheek, which has some color now and is less ashen and pale. "Did you come back for me, Louis? Did you miss me the way I missed you?" His voice is soft, as if he fears rejection.