( The kiss is so tender that Louis thinks he might actually weep, and he's ashamed of himself for thinking that Lestat would treat him any other way. How often had he imagined Lestat's voice berating him when he was only ever hearing himself? Could he have had this all those years ago, if he'd just known how to ask for it? )

It was!

( Louis agrees more plaintively than he means to, and he's surprised by the volume of his own voice. He nuzzles his forehead against Lestat's chin, catlike in his affection. )

I missed you more than I can possibly say. It must have made my thoughts fertile ground for whatever that was. And I never did learn to shield my mind, not the way you or Armand can...