( It isn't far to walk at all, their apartment is a rather modest one, but Louis is astonished by how weary he feels by the time they make it to bed. He feels a pang of fear when Lestat steps through the door, half expecting him to vanish into darkness — followed by a flood of knee-weakening relief when nothing happens.

The pet name soothes him, as it always does, a reminder of Lestat's singular affection for him — it feels like a hand clasping his and squeezing tightly. Louis sighs, leaning on Lestat, relaxing slightly as his worry leaves him. Does he need anything? He tries to think. Blood, but. Well. )

I can't think of what. ( He shakes his head. ) Just you. And perhaps that electric blanket.

( He bumps his forehead against Lestat's cheek. )

I'm thirsting a little, though I wish it weren't so. I'll need to drink again eventually. But there are bottles in the refrigerator; I can manage that on my own.

( His voice is quiet as he tries to keep his shame from seeping into his tone. He doesn't need Lestat to worry any more than he already is. )