[ Lestat watches for a long moment, studying this man in a way that almost seems... suspicious. In all honesty Lestat has never met any human quite so upfront with their darkness in this way, and the unfamiliar quality of it has him quite rapt with something halfway between intrigue and morbid curiosity. It's quite convenient that Lestat has a strange attraction to those with dark souls and minds - his tormented Nicki comes to mind now, his hands carving out the heart-wrenching sounds from his violin with the pace of a pan possessed - because as he looks at Harry and listens to the voices in his head, Lestat isn't perturbed by his recklessness nor his apparent desire to die. ]

I know the experience all too well, though I never had quite the connection with it that you describe.

[ He'd always been too afraid of the darkness taking root in him, of falling back into that pit of despair where he couldn't breathe for fear that taking another breath might prolong the torture of being alive for another moment.

He turns, and his fingers spread wide over the keys to play a more sombre melody, one of Nicki's favourites, the second stage of Mozart's Jeunehomme: Andantino. It's minor key sounds so melancholy, and Lestat is immediately transported back to a dingy tavern with a broken down piano stained with wine, and Nicki's furious playing as Lestat looked on and wept. How will this human's heart react to the sound of it, how will the voices in his head translate the heartache in the notes?

After a few moments, he turns his head to regard his companion. ]

Come closer, mon ami. I don't bite. [ The music builds. ] Unless I'm given permission.