[open] a birthday celebration

[perfectdevil]

WHO: lestat & all of you~
WHAT: lestat is hosting a party for a certain someone's birthday!
WHERE: a bistro in district 3
WHEN: october 4th
WARNINGS: N/A so far. will update as needed!



[ In the early morning hours of the 4th of October, a photograph of a handwritten notice goes up on the network. It’s in flowery but surprisingly legible script, as if he’s learnt to create letters purely by reading them and has jumbled together an amalgamation of different typefaces to make each letter he writes as interesting as possible. The details are as follows: ]

This is an invitation to any and all, to attend a soirée this evening, in celebration of my companion’s birthday.

I’ve attached a photograph of the location; a fashionable little bistro highly recommended to me by someone who clearly knows a thing or two about style. Festivities start at 6 o’clock this evening, though you are more than welcome to be fashionably late. We will go until sunrise. The dress code is: eye-catching.

There will be food, there will be wine, there will be merriment. Games, dancing, live music. Who amongst you could turn their nose up at a free bar and the chance to boogie? I know that technically this entire place is a free bar, what with the distinct lack of economy, but I’ve acquired the assistance of a bartender, just to tempt you…

And, failing all else, there’s the certainty of stunning conversation - and isn’t that something that we all can enjoy, even those of us who don’t groove with the party scene?

Be there, or be square.


xoxo

[ Some of you might remember him posting asking for help planning this little get together, and it’s going ahead with all of Lestat’s best intentions for a night to remember. Whether you know him or don’t (and haven’t been put off by his hip use of old slang he still thinks makes him sound cool) you’ll be welcomed to the festivities with open arms and a warm, sharp smile.

Come on down, don’t be shy. Have a little dance with the devil. ]

The Bar

[ Gleaming in hard wood painted a stunning chic black, the bar is the first thing to delight your eyes with upon entering the bistro. Bottles line the back wall, shining in the low amber lights, and so too the bottles lined up in front as your gracious bartender for the evening, Daan, sets up shop. Perhaps you have a drink in mind, or would like him to surprise you (with varying results), or maybe you’re here for the crowd gathered around and chatting amicably as they nurse their chosen poison.

Lestat himself has taken up prime position there, often with a rather steadfast arm around Louis, whose expression isn’t exactly dour but isn’t particularly placid, either. He gives off the very clear expression of someone who’s been tricked into coming here under false pretences. Probably because Lestat had been positively evasive of even mentioning the B word (birthday) all evening, even going as far as to ignore completely any mention of Louis discovering his plotting before tonight… though whether that be from embarrassment over failing to make his post private despite Armand’s very clear instructions, or simply down to his impish nature, isn’t clear.

What is clear, is that Lestat is having a lovely time in wonderful company, and is a veritable font of energy. He’s usually pretty upbeat, of course, but tonight there’s a particular vigour about him that is clearly different, though not in a strictly bad way. When he’s not hanging off Louis’ side or parading him around to introduce him to people he hasn't met yet, Lestat is leaning over the bar to watch Daan work, or perhaps butting into a nearby conversation or starting a fresh one up with someone looking a little too quiet. ]

The Stage & Dancefloor

[ Great care and attention has been made to stagger the assortment of tables in the room so that each one has a perfect view of the man-made stage and its attached square of space serving as a dance floor. It’s nothing more than a few flat platforms on which the players can stand along with a wall of lined up instruments and some speakers Lestat found at the music store in the mall, but it’s unmistakably the intended highlight of the evening's entertainment.

A dark blue electric guitar beside an acoustic one, a simple spruce violin, a small drum set, a standing keyboard and three microphones is his haul, and they are left available for anyone who'd like to jam. If Lestat sees you looking with the barest hint of interest, even if there is not a single musical bone in your body, if he will pull you over to try something out - what better way to learn than in a room full of people watching you? :)

Toward the middle of the evening, Lestat will take Louis' hands in his own and kiss them, and then kiss him, and leave to climb up onto the stage himself. He’s dressed in a burgundy corduroy jacket over a crisp black shirt; the collar undone to reveal a host of twisted chains at his throat, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his wrists and fingers adorned with similar finery. Tight leather pants, and black boots with a red sole. His nails are painted black, and there’s a smudge of dark red around his eyes, which makes the pale silver-blue of them look almost eerie in the spotlight. (Well, he did say eye-catching was the dress code.)

He’ll take the microphone, lift the electric guitar into his arms and begins to play, and to sing. It’s a cover arrangement, of course, as anyone who enjoys 70s rock music will be able to tell.. but he sings it well, with a practised and enchanting stage presence that is hard to look away from; snaking hips, spectacular crowd work. No, it’s not his vampiric thrall (probably), it’s just that Lestat really was born to perform and he knows it.

He also picks out another song to play a little later on, assuring the crowd very loudly that they must keep this song's existence a complete secret and then "accidentally" name-dropping Steve Tyler as the guy he was jamming with when the song was created. ]

Party Games

[ Lestat has assigned a little space toward the back of the room and has littered the tables with a handful of silly party games, packages of cards, even a small set of plastic chips for gambling (though what exactly the ante will be is entirely up to you). It looks very much like he’s raided the toy aisle in a supermarket which… isn’t untrue, but he’s done so with at least a little care and attention for what kind of party he’d like this to be. There’s no board games, put it that way.

Who Am I?: Take a sticky-note and ask someone to write the name of a famous figure on it, and stick it on your back. You must walk around and ask the other patrons of the party yes/no questions in order to figure out who you are.
Treasure Hunt: Take a paper from the table; on it you'll find a series of descriptions such as "Someone who's favourite colour is blue" or "Someone who has siblings", "someone who's broken someone's heart" etc. Talk to party goers until you find a person who matches each prompt. You may only use one person once. The winner gets a prize!

Bulla has graciously offered to host a round or two of games for all in attendance; the assortment will be varied and both she and Lestat will be no doubt open to any suggestions of things to play. If you aren’t the type to get involved in such things, it’s quite unfortunate because oh, it looks like this one needs a partner and here is Lestat without one! ]

The Veranda

[The way outside through the large glass doors at the back of the bistro is lit in an almost storybook manner, with lights pinned from the doorway to the exterior fence in loose criss-crosses. The furniture has been moved to accommodate a large table running down the centre of the floor, full to bursting with plates of food. It seems the intention here is similar to a “pot-luck” - a concept that has Lestat gleeful as a child over the absurdity of such a thing - only as this place has no real necessity for cooking and as Lestat has no idea what kind of food typically is seen at parties, the guidance is simply to go into the kitchen and take advantage of its seemingly unending capabilities in order to emerge with a bowl, plate or tray of whatever you deem appropriate for a party such as this.

Obviously, this has resulted in the table being full of an incredibly disorganised array of treats in all shapes and colour - which naturally has attracted Lesat into staring at it all like a magpie, asking questions of every meal that people pick at, questioning the flavour and the method of preparation, all the while twisting a glass bottle of some thick scarlet substance around and around in his hands. ]

--
[ happy birthday louis!!! feel free to mingle, thread-hop, eavesdrop, do whatever you'd like. go wild. it's a party!

lestat is down for anything, so if you want to assume your character has made a playlist, brought a game along, has suggested a party game and is bullying people into playing it, or even if you want to assume that lestat saw you in the street nearby and whisked you in to the bistro against your will, please go for it. literally anything goes, i am SO easy and so is lestat. :) ]

Comments

⚰️✨ the birthday boy (open)

[deathoftheauthor]

( Louis has never been a fan of parties, nor of any kind of public attention. He's introverted to a fault. If it were up to him, he would forget the date entirely and spend it the same way he spends every other night. But this party, he suspects, is more for Lestat's sake than his, and so he lets himself be led along, feeling a little like a child's balloon bobbing at the end of a string. Under other circumstances, he might have protested more strongly… but it's so good to see Lestat acting like his old self that Louis can't find it in himself to complain too much.

At the bar, he can be found with Lestat's arm draped over him possessively; Louis can feel his cheeks burn when someone's eyes linger on them too long. He looks tolerant, albeit out of his depth. Now and then, though, you might catch him sitting quietly by himself and watching the crowd, a brief respite from all the activity. He's let Lestat dress him in more colors than usual (which is to say, any at all) for the sake of the dress code, and occasionally he gets distracted staring at the multiple rings on his fingers. How does anyone wear this much jewelry at once?

If approached, he'll offer a small, polite bow and a softening of his expression that could almost be mistaken for a smile. He has to fight the urge to apologize for demanding someone's attention when he doesn't particularly want it in the first place. )

Thank you for coming. Are you enjoying yourself?

( Or perhaps you catch him casting vaguely longing glances toward the door… or staring rapt at the stage while Lestat performs, so obviously smitten that he might as well have hearts in his eyes. )


( ooc. I'll be tagging others' toplevels as well, but if you'd like something specific with Louis, he's here. Wildcards welcome! Force him to play party games! He's too polite to refuse! )

Here, have a gift! (it's not Armand)

[rescinded_vow]

[ Of course he's fashionably late. But he's also impeccably dressed in an autumnal looking silk shirt under a dark suit, along with his usual rings and a few other trinkets, with a small parcel tucked under one arm. He surveys the organised chaos, but has to admit the location is appropriate - tasteful, intimate, thought out in the precise detail of almost all Lestat's whimsies - even to the decoration and musical choices. Other guests are milling around, many of whom he now recognises, but - other than Lestat who is, as ever, impossible to miss - Armand has eyes for only one other.

He navigates silently to Louis' side, appearing there in a manner that, to the casual observer would have them swearing he's been there the whole night for how natural it is, and waits until there's a lull in activity around them before speaking. ]

Bon anniversaire, Louis.

[deathoftheauthor]

Armand.

( Louis says his name warmly, grateful for his quiet and familiar presence. )

I'm so glad you came. It's all too much for my tastes, of course, but you know Lestat... it could be worse.

I had forgotten the significance of the date.

( A shrug and a little smile. He sets his champagne flute on the bar, eyes flitting curiously to the package in Armand's arms. A gift? He doesn't want to ask outright, but he can't hide the curiosity on his expressive face. )

[rescinded_vow]

Indeed. After the first 200 or so they begin to loose a little of their spark, but this is...charming.

[ Generous, certainly from a being that has long forgotten the date of his mortal birth - if he ever knew it to begin with.

Armand smiles to himself at Louis' immediate eyeline, and doesn't make him wait. He carefully offers up the packed in both hands - it's wrapped perfectly in brown paper, complete with an artfully tied bow in green satin but no note card - turning his body once more to the room, but watching Louis' from his periphery. ]

To mark the occasion.

[ Inside is something he's been working on for a little while, not specifically with this date in mind, but subconsciously perhaps, Armand knew that Lestat would not let the anniversary go unnoticed. It's a green leather bound book - much like any of the plain tomes that litter the shelves in the city - but this one has received heavy modification.

Someone has gilt the page edge for starters, a ribbon bookmark in black has been added and the cover and spine have been decorated with delicate looking gold lines, leaves and swirls. There's no title to the front, but on the spine is inscribed 'Keats'. Inside, there are words, poems to be exact - the writings of the aforementioned poet, perhaps not complete but certainly more than one mortal could remember. But this hasn't been written by a mortal, it's been penned in Armand's careful, slanting hand. The pages themselves seem to give off a perfume - roses - and here and there on every page there seems to be the after images of petals - perhaps they were pressed here once before being replaced with poetry.

There's no inscription, no date, only the words 'property of one Louis de Pointe du Lac, if found please return' written carefully on the title page. ]

[deathoftheauthor]

( It's been so long since he's seen written words like this that it's actually startling, and Louis is too astonished by the beauty of the book and the sheer effort that it must have taken to compose this to properly appreciate the actual contents. He stares in disbelief, turning the gilded pages one by one with the careful, reverent touch of a curator, and it doesn't take him long at all to see what this actually is.

Poems. Keats, perhaps Louis' very favorite; that had certainly been the case when they were traveling together all those years ago, though he can't remember ever saying so aloud. Had Armand plucked that fondness for Keats from his head, or had he simply cared enough for Louis that he noticed such things? Those years were like moving through fog for Louis, and he hadn't returned a sliver of the attention Armand paid to him.

He's captivated by it in the way only vampires can be, with such singular focus and appreciation that it's almost a trance. Enough time passes that it would be rude, or at least very strange, if he were mortal.

Finally he closes the book, holding it against his chest as carefully as if it were a small animal, and looks at Armand with a mixture of amazement and tenderness. )

Armand, you didn't have to do all of this.

( He gazes at it lovingly again. )

It's beautiful. Thank you. Truly, from the bottom of my heart. This is one of the most thoughtful things anyone has ever done for me.

[keepgodwaiting]

Are you?

[ Johanna looks amused -- though sympathetic -- as she pulls up a chair next to Louis and takes a seat. ]

You're the guest of honor, after all. We ought to be making sure you're having the time of your life.

[deathoftheauthor]

( Louis lets out a small, amused sound, bowing his head in the manner of a man resigned to his fate. )

That would be quite a difficult task. I'm sure you would be shocked to learn that I'm not typically one for parties.

( He shrugs. It hasn't been so bad, but. )

I think he wanted the excuse.

[keepgodwaiting]

Your man?

[ She glances around the room to spot Lestat and nods towards him. ]

He does seem a bit unstoppable. Here, is it actually the 1980s where you're from or does he just have a hangover?

[deathoftheauthor]

( Louis blinks owlishly, lips moving silently as he mouths the words "my man?" in consternation. He comes around to her question quickly, amused by her particular phrasing, but slightly unsettled as he always is when thinking of such things. )

1984.

( Louis wants to explain that the 1980s are really brand new to Lestat, as is most of the twentieth century, and perhaps the novelty of it was why he'd thrown himself into it with such abandon... But it's difficult to conversationally explain decades of deathlike sleep, and so he sidles around that topic. )

It's still strange to think that that's somewhat old-fashioned here. What year was it for you?

it’s wallflower o’clock

[willtheunwise]

[ Will is literally only still here because he’s too chicken to go and say he’s leaving and risk getting dragged into more ‘fun’, and it’s mostly people who are older than him and it’s making him feel like an actual baby. Plus he can’t drink, or he could, but he feels like getting drunk for the first time here would mean an embarrassing amount of fussing and god Lestat is lucky he’s pretty or there’s no way Will would have been talked in to being at a party.

He does however notice when the birthday boy has snuck off to avoid the revelry and makes his way over ]

Happy birthday.

[ He extends an envelope, he doesn’t know Louis well enough to know what he might want and he didn’t want to arrive empty handed (though he didn’t exactly, he arrived early with a stack of canvases he’s painted so that Lestat could give his companion something he couldn’t pick up in a store) so inside the envelope is a hand drawn card, it’s just a sketched portrait really, and he’s not convinced it’s totally accurate due to being drawn from memory, but he’s always just a little self-conscious when giving anyone art he did specifically for them. ]

[deathoftheauthor]

Thank you, Will. It's good to see you here.

( In spite of the general aura of tension and uncertainty that's been hanging from Louis' shoulders like a cloak on and off throughout the evening, Louis is nothing but warm and earnest when he greets the young man.

He takes the envelope with an appreciative nod, almost a small bow, and thanks him again before opening it. He had expected a card, some kind and generous well-wishes written in the blank folds they have in the shops here, but he's stunned to find something much more personal. He stares at the drawing, astonished and deeply moved; after several moments, when he can speak again, he looks back to Will. )

This is beautifully done... You drew this?

( Louis asks, impressed and intrigued; he's one of the few vampires in his small circle that has never taken up an art form, and so it always has a little tinge of magic to it. )

You're quite talented.

[willtheunwise]

[ Will manages a shy smile and resists the urge to downplay and call it a sketch or one of his usual responses to being complimented. He’s been working on his art since he was little and he’s devoid of the people who usually hype him up when he won’t, so maybe that’s the next step, be more confident about accepting praise. ]

Yeah, I did, I wasn’t sure how accurate it was going to turn out… [ Now it’s near the man itself he can actually accept that he did do a good job, there would be more detail if he’d gotten Louis to model for him but there’s no way he had the guts to do that. ] But you have a fun face to draw, like… it’s nice. [ Christ, William. His own face heats up as he stumbles over the attempt at a compliment. He clears his throat. ] I’ve been doing art since I was little but portraits are something I want to work on more so I’m glad you like it.

[ This is why he’s known as the quiet one, the one who stands back and lets his bolder friends do the talking, because every time he opens his mouth he almost immediately wants to tape it shut. ]

[100more]

[ Hob would not say he knows many people in the city, but he enjoyed speaking with Louis a few times and thinks well of the man. Enough to dig up a grave with him without questioning it, anyway.

And going to a birthday party is one of those normal activities they might do back home, so maybe it'll add a little normalcy to Hob's life, at least for a few hours.

Once he arrives and has a look around, he spots the man of the hour and approaches. ]

Good evening, Louis. I didn't realize you had a birthday coming so soon.

[ To think, they've been here long enough to start celebrating such things. ]

This is for you.

[ A small bag is offered. Inside is a warm scarf, dark gray with hints of silver in the threading. Maybe it's silly to bring a gift when everything in the city is free, but hopefully the thought will count for something, since it was picked out with Louis in mind. ]

[deathoftheauthor]

( In some ways, the lack of any kind of monetary system in this place makes the effort of choosing a gift seem more meaningful. When there's no need to account for the price of an item, the only real consideration becomes the recipient's taste. At least, that's how Louis is choosing to think of it. And the scarf certainly is to his taste, soft and dark and warm enough for the chill he's beginning to feel in the air at night. )

Thank you.

( Louis' expression is soft, his voice sincerely touched as he holds the folded scarf in both hands, feeling its weight and knit. )

I didn't expect anything at all. This is lovely... It will serve me well in the coming months, I think, now that I've resigned myself to staying here that long.

( He doesn't sound quite as gloomy about it as he once did, but that's due to the company far more than the city itself. )

It's only been about half a year since my last birthday, which is strange to think about. It was winter in my world, but summer here. Keeping track of my precise age isn't so important, so I suppose it makes more sense to conform to the local calendar...

[100more]

[ Hob smiles, pleased that he likes what was picked out for him. And yes, there was a certain practicality to it, since they'll all need to start bundling up soon. ]

It would be less confusing to think of the season as winter. It wasn't so late in the year when I was at home, either.

[ It's not important to keep track of his age? ]

You don't like birthdays? Your friend seems to be happy to celebrate yours.

[deathoftheauthor]

( An awkward little shrug of one shoulder. )

Oh, no, nothing like that. It isn't birthdays or any other holiday that I take issue with, it's being in the spotlight. But my friend enjoys grand gestures, and the truth is, I thought it would make him happy.

( He smiles wistfully, his eyes seeking out Lestat in the crowd briefly before turning back to Hob. )

That, and he ignored my initial protests.

( Ah well. )

[localweirdo]

[Meanwhile, Hu Tao knows close to nothing about who the birthday party is for! For all she knew, there was a party and that she was invited to sing for this special occasion. And yet, she knew that she couldn't come into the place empty handed. With a gift in her hand, she flashed a smile at him.]

Of course! The better question is are you? I certainly hope so because I would hate to see the birthday boy being sad.

[All the while gesturing with her head to said gift in her hands.]

[deathoftheauthor]

Birthday boy...

( Louis repeats the words, his surprise turning deeply introspective for a moment, though he can appreciate the humor in a two-century-old vampire being called by such a juvenile name.

He's even more surprised to see a gift. Birthday or no, he feels vaguely guilty about accepting something from a stranger, even if nothing here costs any money. Still, it's a touching gesture, and Louis accepts it gratefully, without looking too much like he wants to crawl out of his skin. )

Oh, I hope I don't seem sad. It's all just a bit overwhelming. I don't attend many parties, and especially not ones where I'm meant to be the guest of honor.

( He's glad that people are doing their own things, really. )

Thank you for the gift. I truly didn't expect anything... it was so kind of you to go out of your way. My name is Louis — I don't believe I've had the pleasure of meeting you.

[localweirdo]

[As she wanted to say something, she found herself closing her mouth. She had just met him and the last thing she wanted was to upset a new friend. After all, there was a moment as she wondered if he seemed sad at this whole affair.

And yet, she'll have to ask that later. Because right now...?]

Not at all! It's only fair to get something for one's birthday, it seems rude to just appear at a party without giving a gift.

[That said, as she gave said gift to him, she was hoping it'll like it! While it was just a book with some pencils, it was still something right....?]

But my name is Hu Tao! As in Hu am I to make this special acquaintance and Tao are you?

[perfectdevil]

[ The stage isn't as big as the stadium had been, obviously, but the perfectly positioned assortment of freestanding spotlights creates a perfectly vague facsimile of the dazzling blindness and the heat of it. Lestat can't see any faces in the crowd much as it had been then, so as his song starts he keeps his eyes closed through the first verse... He lets it wash over him; it's him, the music, the reverberation of sound underfoot and the cord of the microphone around his knuckles.

He turns when he feels it, though he couldn't say what it is more than a feeling, than instinct making him spin on his heel, forcing his eyes to open and to meet the green ones of his lover as he makes small steps toward the stage, staring up at him with that reverent look on his face-- Lestat wonders if it's different for him to see this kind of performance from the audience rather than from off the side of the stage, or on TV. He wonders if Louis heart rate picked up like his did when their eyes met.

"...With love, we sleep, with doubt, the vicious circle, turns and burns--
Without you, I cannot live-- Forgive, the yearning burning, I believe it's time, too real to feel..."

He forgets the room around them; it falls away panel by panel to leave only this, their eye contact and the connection between their hearts. Every movement of his body, sway of his hips, toss of his hair, beckoning motion of his hand is all for Louis, and when the song ends he unceremoniously drops the microphone and leans down to Louis' level to press a kiss to his mouth, and then to murmur against it: ]

Am I forgiven for causing all this fuss, then?

[ He doesn't really mind if anyone is looking, but for Louis' benefit he hops off the stage and seems to have every intention of hustling Louis back to the secluded little table where he'd been gravitating every so often throughout the night. ]

[deathoftheauthor]

( This party is so much smaller than the concert had been, and instead of blending invisibly into the shadows backstage, Louis has a front row seat — and he is the primary object of focus, at least for Lestat. It's electrifying. That's the only word for it. The air feels the way it does before a thunderstorm; Louis' skin tingles, and the fine hair at the back of his neck stands on end, and the music moves through him like the insistent beckoning throb of a heartbeat. He's captivated, caught up completely in the sway of Lestat's body, the way the light catches his hair, the purr of his voice.

And yes, his heart beats faster when he catches Lestat's blue eyes.

Time stops when Lestat kisses him, and Louis can't remember where he is or that anyone else might be watching. It's like something divine, a visitation from an angel, all else rendered utterly unimportant.

Forgiven? Louis blinks, and for a moment he looks like a spellbound mortal might — only the spell is pure affection, plain and simple. He remembers where they are, and yes, that this party is all for him, and he's supposed to be annoyed with Lestat about it.

He gives Lestat a look, pretending at considering the question, but there's a teasing glint in his eye. )

That depends how the rest of the evening goes.

( Louis lies smoothly, but he doesn't really mean it — he'd forgiven Lestat the moment it became clear how happy all this was making him. That was quite enough public attention for just right now, though, he thinks, so he leans into Lestat and lets himself hopefully be whisked away to somewhere slightly quieter. He's still a bit flustered by all of it, now that he's come back to himself. )

You should perform more often. You have such a gift, Lestat.

[perfectdevil]

[ Lestat's laugh is warm and loud as his hands guide Louis into his seat. Normally he'd sit across from him out of the vague memory of decorum, perhaps take his hand over the table, maybe even slide a long leg playfully between Louis' ankles-- but tonight is different. Tonight Lestat impulsively ushers Louis into a booth off to the side of the room, and slides in beside him. ]

Oh, I find it very hard to believe you're still annoyed with me when you're saying things like that. You know how much I love it when you stroke my ego.

[ He's shining faintly from the heat of the lamps, but it was only one song and so nowhere near enough to make him sweat-- but he does go to the trouble of tying his hair back with one of the straps that had been wound around his wrist. Once complete, he settles into the seat with an arm arching casually over Louis' shoulders. The scene they paint is like the rock star and his girlfriend in the back of the limo, and the similarity certainly isn't lost on Lestat. ]

I didn't realise how much I'd missed it. I thought it had to be a stage in a stadium, and that it had to be built up into something big and loud… But it reminds me of the theatre.

[ His voice goes soft, his fingers trailing over Louis' shoulder and through the tumble of his hair like he's playing at piano keys. ]

I have to admit, I want to do it again.

[unrequite]

You are very welcome. You look stunning, darling, happy birthday.

[ This conversation is taking place near the stage, where Midnight's installed himself for most of the night, playing various hits from Terra and having a fantastic time learning the ways of otherworldly rock. He rises from where he was sitting, guitar slung over his back, and grins at Louis, one hand in his pocket, the other around the neck of a bottle of champagne, which he presents to Louis. ]

Can't say that we'll ever run dry in a city like this, but it's nice to have a bit of liquor delivered to you, rather than having to claim it on one's own.

[deathoftheauthor]

( Does he blush just a little at "darling"? The shadows are so strange in here, it's hard to tell. )

Oh, thank you. How incredibly thoughtful.

( Louis takes the bottle gratefully, too touched by the gesture to care that he can't actually drink it. Champagne is always lovely, anyway; he likes watching the bubbles and hearing them fizz. )

I think in a place such as this, where money is of no concern and we can obtain anything we want, gifts are meaningful in a different way. But no less so. Thank you for thinking of me.

( A soft smile. )

Ah— I've been watching you play. You're very good.

[unrequite]

[ Since vampires can eat and drink whatever they like in Midnight's world, not even the basic knowledge that he's speaking to a fellow vampire would have saved Midnight from this specific faux pas. However, Louis's reaction is very sweet and gracious, and Midnight accepts it in kind, with one of his entirely too-pleased grins. He really is quite charming... ]

I do like to give... I like others to know that they're in my thoughts.

[ Midnight nods in response to the compliment, well pleased. ]

I'm flattered you think so, thank you. I've always had a love for performance, so I do love it when I can put all that practice to good use. That said, I've yet to match a professional in terms of musical skill... Mr. Lestat strikes me as the type. Were a band not composed of several people, I daresay he could have carried the entire night himself.