After opening the dressing room door, Lestat lazily made his way to the sofa and plopped down on it with a dissatisfied sound and buried his face in a pillow. His concert role was back on top and ascended to the gods. Although he already considered himself a full-fledged God, he was still a vampire. However, his mood was much worse than usual for reasons he did not understand. Perhaps it was fatigue or satiety with the famous life, immeasurable wealth, excessive attention, or just his pathetic undead existence. It seems the philosophizing of Louis's former lover is contagious and unforgettable like himself. A green-eyed egoist, manipulator, and sufferer. Lestat was like that himself, but flatly refused to admit it and carefully hides it, stretching the image of a confident and independent Brat Prince. It's a stupid brand, it's stuck like a family. However, his fledgling convert a few months ago didn't really care about that, except for curiosity. Lestat had long since gotten used to calling her daughter. Surprisingly, they were very close, even too close. After all, his soul is completely open to her without secrets and deceptions.

My Rock daddy tired again? She grins and her fingers tangle in his hair.

And how does she manage to appear so unnoticed? **

Lestat lazily lifted his face off the pillow, feeling his makeup crumble, and spoke irritatingly. Sometimes you piss me off, my princess. The vampire teasingly bit her fingertips with his fangs. Silly girl. He grinned, feeling like a fucked up bitch.

Really? I thought you loved me, Brat Prince. She smirked. Are you tired of life, romcom girl? Hehe.

The prince rolls his blue eyes and rolls over onto his back. Stupid fledgling! Lestat grins teasingly, baring his fangs. Tight black leather pants uncomfortably constricted his movements, and the mesh on his satin jacket tickled his hands unpleasantly. He wanted to be at home in his home clothes as soon as possible, and preferably with her in his arms.