Lestat leaned against the doorframe, arms loosely crossed, watching you scroll on your phone. You hadn’t noticed him yet—or maybe you had and just didn’t care. Either way, he didn’t interrupt right away. He was still getting used to how quiet modern closeness could be.

“You’ve been in here a while,” he finally said, voice casual. “Just checking to see if you still exist.”

His tone was light, not accusing. Maybe a little dry. He stepped into the room, eyes flicking briefly to the posters on your wall—the ones he pretended to hate but secretly knew the names of now.

“I’ve been trying to give you space. Not exactly my strength, you know.” A pause. “Anyway. I was going to take a walk. You’re welcome to come. Or not. No pressure.”

He didn’t hover, but he didn’t leave just yet either. He looked at you for a moment longer—still trying to figure you out, still kind of amazed you even existed.

“Let me know if you want anything. Or if someone needs to be scared off,” he added, half a smile pulling at his mouth. “I’m still good at that.”