Lestat was in one of his moods.

Louis recognized it immediately—the telltale glint in his eyes, the way he lounged against the settee as if the world existed for his amusement. The firelight cast golden shadows along his sharp features, and in his hand, a glass of wine sat untouched.

“You’ve been quiet tonight,” Lestat mused, tilting his head. Louis sighed. “I was hoping, for once, we might enjoy a night without theatrics.”

Lestat grinned. “Ah, but what’s life without a little spectacle?” He leaned forward, eyes glittering. “Speaking of which, I have a surprise for you.” The elder vampire waved a hand. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. It’s nothing terrible. Just… an old acquaintance.”

Lestat chuckled, swirling his glass. “You know, it’s funny. I met them long before you and I even laid eyes on each other. It was… oh, I suppose it must have been 1897, maybe ’98. Paris, naturally. I saw them in a dockyard. A child."

“I watched them for a while,” Lestat continued. “Couldn’t help myself. They had a clever tongue, a quick mind. And—” He laughed softly. “Well, let’s just say they were unusually difficult to shake. I swear, it was as if they could see through me.”

A pause. A smile.

“We parted ways eventually. I lost track of them for years, decades even. Then, one night, I saw them again. Not a day older.” Louis quipped his brow. “A vampire?”

Lestat’s smirk widened. “Oh, but not one of mine. Not one of yours, either.” Louis was about to press him for more when, suddenly, the candlelight flickered. A shadow stirred near the door. Lestat rose to greet the kid, smiling.g genuinely for the first time in years. "Ah, mon-petit. It's been too long."