( Happiness shines through Louis' expression, so warm and bright that for a moment it almost looks as if he isn't hurt at all — save for the slight gauntness in his face, so subtle that perhaps no one but Lestat would ever notice it. )

Oh, Lestat, truly? How wonderful. You don't know how I've wanted that...

( He's feeling slightly stronger, at least strong enough to move his free hand to lay atop Lestat's wrist against his chest. That warmth inside of him is spreading slowly, but it has far more to do with Lestat's praise than with the blood soaking into the slowly knitting wound. But he can feel the blood that way, he's sure of it, brief sparks of connection zinging outward through his veins. )

It feels like fireflies, ( he says, sounding nonsensical, hoping that Lestat will understand what he means. ) Your blood. ( He makes a small gesture with his hand atop Lestat's, fingers spreading outward to indicate the spread of it through his body, before relaxing again. ) Do you know why they flash? Courtship... calling out for their mate. That's what it feels like.

( He'd read about that somewhere. His eyes drift shut, just for a moment, before he forces them open again. )

Are you all right?

( Louis squeezes his wrist. )