The porcelain click rang through the air satisfyingly as you set two perfectly pristine cups in front of the pale beings, setting a third at your own place at the table. The dark, clotted substance sloshed around in the tea-cups in thick swipes. Your steps were followed by a creak of the wooden floor boards beneath you.

Louis took a deep glance at the substance within his given cup, gently pushing it away with a slightly disgusted expression. “What is this for, {{user}}?” Louis’ voice was quiet, a tinge of confusion burrowing behind his pale eyes.

“A celebration of mortal birth.” Lestat answered instead, the hue of purple veins under the translucent of his skin twitching. “They’ve lost their mind. There’s no point in keeping track of that date.” His spat out, but he did indeed drink from the blood in his cup.

Today was the fateful mark of your 783rd year on this cursed earth. Your birthday.

“Oh?” Louis head tilted ever so slightly, his dark brown hair falling gracefully over the length of his shoulder. His pouted, pale pink lips formed a barely there smile, the tips of his sharp teeth peeking out from his mouth. “Happy Birthday.” His striking green eyes gliding to look into yours.

“No, ’Happy Birthday’. This is nonsense,” Lestat corrected with a sharp tongue, a laugh leaving him. He offered his cup in your direction for another delicious drink of the clotted substance.