( Louis looks at Lestat with a sweet, dawning smile, seeing him as if from an entirely new angle, faintly amazed and entirely swept up in the rather chaste romance of it all. It's still difficult for Louis to accept that he is in fact Lestat's choice, and not merely the one he settled for— the first desperate man Lestat saw when he first set foot on the banks of the Mississippi. How could Lestat have wanted him so desperately when Louis could barely tolerate himself?

Certainly not with anyone I care for so deeply. Louis knows how Lestat sounds when he's saying something just to be charming, and it has little effect on him; he's too used to that honeyed purr sounding like mockery. But Lestat's honesty is entirely disarming, and he looks so young and sweet and almost innocent that Louis doesn't have a single thought of doubting him. Lestat loves him, even though Louis doesn't love himself. And isn't that a miracle? )

In that case, I shall do my best to be as patient with you as you certainly will be with me. ( Fair is fair. ) Now I wish I'd gotten you a ring to match.

( He moves toward Lestat again, taking his arm and pressing close with a little flutter of his heart. )

Let's be off. We have so much time to make up for.