Lestat hums thoughtfully in response as he heals up the wound on Neal's neck. He thinks about his mother who preferred to bury herself in nothing but earth each night, or to Louis who sometimes found the coffin too dour and took preference to a bed.
"Preference, I suppose. A habit far older than I."
And coffins provide some degree of safety from the outside world, not only from people but from the elements such as sunlight. There's no need to worry about sunlight on the barge, though. The artificial form of it does nothing to affect him.
Neal exhales softly, drawing back enough to meet Lestat’s eyes. He brushes the man’s hair back, away from his face.
“I want to be clear, I’m not asking for or demanding anything.” A hesitation, then a bit more vulnerability. “I don’t want to be alone at night right now.”
"I'd never accuse you of doing such a thing," he replies, a small, teasing smile on his face.
With a kiss to the corner of Neal's mouth, he gives the man a nudge towards something to sit on, then finds the wine Neal had been drinking to hand it to him. It's not much, but it'll do, and Lestat had been fortified on wine after being fed on. Which might not be saying much, considering that wine was what everyone drank in those days.
Neal, perhaps unadvisedly, drains the glass, setting it aside for the moment. He shifts on the couch to lie against Lestat, lounging on the other man the way they did when Neal was in his cabin during the warden flood. “Is it part of the process, the…”
It’s strange, how much more comfortable he is with innuendo than actual discussion. He closes his eyes, resting his ear against Lestat’s chest so he can hear the vampire’s heartbeat. “How good it feels when you grab me?”
That gets an amused look from Lestat, which, thankfully, Neal can't see. He lays a hand on the back of Neal's head, absently cradling him close as he muses over the question.
"I think that is simply something you enjoy, mon beau."
Sometimes a nearly-37-year-old-man is also a dumb baby who has never really considered his own preferences because he subconsciously views all relationships as transactional. Two things can be true.
As it is, he's quiet for a long, surprised moment, and then just says, "Oh."
Neal stretches out a little on the couch, settling against Lestat, thinking they should perhaps have taken care of clothes before this point. He's comfortable now. He shifts to toy with the buttons of Lestat's shirt that are closest to his face. "Why do you think you're an inmate? Why do you think you got picked to be here, instead of someone else? Someone asked me that recently, and I realized I hadn't really thought about it. The 'why me' part."
"I think that anybody here could give you a reason as to why I'm in an inmate."
There's not really a mystery there, and Lestat has little issue facing that fact. He's killed hundreds over the years, he takes a certain degree of pleasure it in from time to time, and he shows little remorse for his actions. His warden insists there's more to it than just that, but Lestat doesn't let those conversations get too far.
"The base assumption would be that something about us must be fixed and can be fixed. I don't think I need that."
He rolls over, resting his hand on Lestat’s chest and resting his own chin on the back of that hand. “The man who asked me said it was because there’s something remarkable enough about us to warrant a second chance at life.”
"Do you think that, once this place gives us the rehabilitation we apparently need, that we will remain remarkable? Or is what makes us remarkable also what makes us inmates?"
Lestat will remain remarkable. What he is as a physical being, disregarding emotions and personality, is inherently remarkable. And he thinks himself too singular a person to ever lose that. But for other inmates like Neal, humans with remarkable traits, the danger of change is more present.
Neal goes quiet, not having an immediate answer to the question. It's certainly been an unspoken fear, though he didn't quite frame it in the same way in his head.
He shifts to pillow his head against Lestat's chest again. "I told Malcolm that if you're not the best, you're no one. He suggested believing that might be part of what stands in the way of my graduation."
He breathes out a laugh, oddly endeared by Lestat framing the exchange in the worst possible light. Not that it had happened in a very good one.
"No. I don't think that's what he meant." In this instance, Neal had referenced the fact that he'd lost out to Will in the attempt for Malcolm's attention. He sighs, closing his eyes.
"How's your Warden? What's it like, working with him?"
Though Neal probably knows Lestat well enough to pick up on the fondness in his tone.
"He is beyond good-hearted and continues to go out of his way to provide comforts to me. If there were an ulterior motive I could abide it, but he's given me the ability to fully see into his mind and he simply does it because he wants to."
And of course only Lestat would find an issue with someone being so hospitable. Still, he's positively enchanted by Reid, so the fits of annoyance are easily quelled.
Mostly because when Lestat decides he fancies someone, he goes all in to full infatuation. And to say he's infatuated with a certain vampire doctor on board may be an understatement.
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"Preference, I suppose. A habit far older than I."
And coffins provide some degree of safety from the outside world, not only from people but from the elements such as sunlight. There's no need to worry about sunlight on the barge, though. The artificial form of it does nothing to affect him.
"I'll stay."
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“I want to be clear, I’m not asking for or demanding anything.” A hesitation, then a bit more vulnerability. “I don’t want to be alone at night right now.”
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With a kiss to the corner of Neal's mouth, he gives the man a nudge towards something to sit on, then finds the wine Neal had been drinking to hand it to him. It's not much, but it'll do, and Lestat had been fortified on wine after being fed on. Which might not be saying much, considering that wine was what everyone drank in those days.
"I'll gladly keep you company as you rest."
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It’s strange, how much more comfortable he is with innuendo than actual discussion. He closes his eyes, resting his ear against Lestat’s chest so he can hear the vampire’s heartbeat. “How good it feels when you grab me?”
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"I think that is simply something you enjoy, mon beau."
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As it is, he's quiet for a long, surprised moment, and then just says, "Oh."
Neal stretches out a little on the couch, settling against Lestat, thinking they should perhaps have taken care of clothes before this point. He's comfortable now. He shifts to toy with the buttons of Lestat's shirt that are closest to his face. "Why do you think you're an inmate? Why do you think you got picked to be here, instead of someone else? Someone asked me that recently, and I realized I hadn't really thought about it. The 'why me' part."
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There's not really a mystery there, and Lestat has little issue facing that fact. He's killed hundreds over the years, he takes a certain degree of pleasure it in from time to time, and he shows little remorse for his actions. His warden insists there's more to it than just that, but Lestat doesn't let those conversations get too far.
"The base assumption would be that something about us must be fixed and can be fixed. I don't think I need that."
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He rolls over, resting his hand on Lestat’s chest and resting his own chin on the back of that hand. “The man who asked me said it was because there’s something remarkable enough about us to warrant a second chance at life.”
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That goes without saying, of course. Not everyone gets to feed on the queen of all vampires.
"Do you think that you are?"
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He has remarkable skills, certainly. He’s capable of the remarkable. Not here, so much, but back in the world. “I was the best at what I do.”
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Lestat will remain remarkable. What he is as a physical being, disregarding emotions and personality, is inherently remarkable. And he thinks himself too singular a person to ever lose that. But for other inmates like Neal, humans with remarkable traits, the danger of change is more present.
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He shifts to pillow his head against Lestat's chest again. "I told Malcolm that if you're not the best, you're no one. He suggested believing that might be part of what stands in the way of my graduation."
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"Your desire to be good at something is holding you back?"
Lestat knows that's not the meaning. Still, he can't help but skew it that way, particularly in context of the conversation up until now.
"Perhaps it is late and I am reading too far into things," he adds, casually. "I can't imagine he'd encourage you to settle for mediocrity."
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"No. I don't think that's what he meant." In this instance, Neal had referenced the fact that he'd lost out to Will in the attempt for Malcolm's attention. He sighs, closing his eyes.
"How's your Warden? What's it like, working with him?"
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Though Neal probably knows Lestat well enough to pick up on the fondness in his tone.
"He is beyond good-hearted and continues to go out of his way to provide comforts to me. If there were an ulterior motive I could abide it, but he's given me the ability to fully see into his mind and he simply does it because he wants to."
And of course only Lestat would find an issue with someone being so hospitable. Still, he's positively enchanted by Reid, so the fits of annoyance are easily quelled.
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"Careful," he says. "You sound like you're half-way to a crush."
And that way lies madness.
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Mostly because when Lestat decides he fancies someone, he goes all in to full infatuation. And to say he's infatuated with a certain vampire doctor on board may be an understatement.