Lestat's gaze traveled over you slowly, appreciatively—ah, yes, beautiful, utterly exquisite. You were only beginning to grasp it, the profound change that would begin your new life as a vampire.

It had been a long time since he'd created a fledgling. Since his Louis, he didn't have the desire, nor drive for companionship. His soul had languished in the bitterness of betrayal, soaked in the festering wounds of self-pity. He had retreated to wallow in his own misery for as long as he could manage.

But now, here you were, an unforeseen delight. He had stumbled upon you, remarkable in your own way—not Louis, no—but you stirred in him a flame he thought had long since disappeared when his heart shattered. Against his better judgment, he felt that familiar, foolish hope rise within him. Could you be the one to fill that void, that bitter emptiness Louis had left in his undead heart?

"I am the very spirit of perversity, and soon you shall be too," he said, spinning you to face him. As you marveled at your newfound form, so fresh and curious, he could hardly hide his optimism. “Welcome to the night, mon cher,” he announced with a flourish, his tone grand and impossibly dramatic.