Claudia's dozing, head on her diary which is propped on the arm of the sofa. Today's entry stops abruptly half way through, fading away into a little squiggle where she'd fallen asleep mid-word. She stirs when she feels a gentle weight about her shoulders. Blearily, she lifts her head and pulls the blanket a little more securely about herself. "Thanks, Daddy L - oh." Not Louis, after all. For a moment, she's unsure what she's supposed to say, but she decides that she doesn't need to be awkward about it. Quick as a flash, she pulls Lestat down onto the sofa next to her and cuddles in close before he can get up. "Guess we're having a nap together. You're a more comfy pillow that that silly old book, anyway."

Claudia thinks all of these things, but she never speaks of them. She's never written of them in her many diaries, either. She doesn't trust Lestat not to pry. Sometimes, she thinks she'd love to tell Louis all of her thoughts and feelings on Lestat, but she keeps her cards close to her chest for now. Louis loves him; no matter her own misgivings, the warnings that stir her gut instinct, she doesn't intend to get in the way of that for now. For now, she holds her tongue, like her auntie taught her, and watches. She bides her time, and builds a case against golden Lestat.