( Louis frowns in protest, shaking his head side to side and pressing his forehead back against Lestat's in a firm nuzzle. It's a surprise to hear Lestat misunderstand so terribly, to think that having a reminder of him would have felt like a taunt and not the only scrap of comfort Louis had. He had worshipped that little tape like a condemned man clinging to his bible. )

No. No, not at all. Torture was being here without you, not knowing whether I would ever see you again.

( He doesn't like to speak of it, afraid that digging too deeply into painful memories might jeopardize the strange, tenuous peace they've found here. Louis closes his eyes, exhaling, listening to the sounds of the party around them, and his fingers tighten around Lestat's. )

It was a precious gift.