( There's the smile, finally, one side of his mouth turning up in the wake of Lestat drawing back from the kiss. He brushes his fingers over Lestat's lapels, smoothing them out, though they hardly need it. )

You'll hear no excuses from me. I'm sure a couch must weigh less than a coffin, and I could move one of those on my own when I was still dining on rats. I think we can manage between us, even in our present state.

We can make-believe we're mortals.