[ Sometimes the simplest gestures are the best way to get the message across, Steve. ]
I'm undead. My body doesn't function the same way as a living mortal anymore. Blood is what makes us feel human again.
[ Covering himself in fur pelts won't give him what he needs. He's a living corpse. Fortunately, that means that no means of weather truly bothers him. The nipples are out, and how proud he is that they keep distracting him. Keep telling on yourself, kid. ]
Without it, we become less like ourselves over time.
[ For better or worse, for Steve and the others, that's left to interpretation. ]
( astonishingly snarky, considering he must look like a walking talking bloodbag to present company. if Lestat is as strong as Louis, there is absolutely nothing stopping him from having a boy snack, right here and right now. Steve did not come armed, wouldn't be contest even if he did. and yet ... something is stopping him, huh? because they've had a conversation this long, and he could have been a juice box before even getting a hit of the cigarette if that's what Lestat intended.
it isn't actually that hard to figure out what might be motivating Lestat to keep his teeth to himself. my Louis was not subtle. and Louis isn't subtle about assigning Steve babysitters, or going out of his way keep him in relatively one piece, either. it seems highly likely he is only somewhat safe right now because Louis prefers him that way. which is really weird to think about.
Steve does not know what to make of Lestat himself just yet. does not trust him as far as he could throw him, which isn't exactly far. he seems to be honest, though, if he bothers to share at all. which is more than Steve can say about Louis, actually. )
Thanks for the smoke. ( this is Steve attempting to play nice. which is an improvement from where they started, actually, whether Lestat appreciates that or not. )
[ It's only been his depression diet for decades, but go ahead...rub it in bloodbag. Here he's been, more than generous with his company, his knowledge, his resources. The ungrateful gratefulness of youth. He could pluck Steve's tongue out of his mouth and feed it back to him. He could have him howling like a wolf on his knees before Lestat's feet. ]
Voilà! [ He exclaims softly, leaning forward to clap a hand on Steve's shoulder as he slips onto his feet to pass him with a subtle tease. ] He has found some manners.
[ Better late than never. Steve is slow to warm, but so was Louis. This vampire is nothing but persistent. ]
You really are an old man. ( harping on manners cinches it. the face Lestat wears isn't that old. 20s, 30s, somewhere in that ballpark. he fits the part until he opens his mouth, and talks a grandma. it's kinda funny, actually. a vampire telling him to mind his p's and q's.
Steve is good at putting on a air of nonchalance. his voice doesn't give him away. but despite talking a big game, even a casual, harmless touch made Steve's stupid little heart skyrocket. fear and thrill in tandem.
he's not surprised to hear the next cigarette won't be so easy. proud and a little stupid, Steve tells himself it won't matter. one is all he needed, and now he's right as rain. he stays and Lestat goes, at least as far as Steve can tell. he doesn't linger in the gatehouse long. just enough to stare out at the murky fog curling around the landscape, linger in what is left of the stink of tobacco. rub the spot over his heart, like he can massage out the traitorous way it thunders when he doesn't want it to. )
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no subject
I'm undead. My body doesn't function the same way as a living mortal anymore. Blood is what makes us feel human again.
[ Covering himself in fur pelts won't give him what he needs. He's a living corpse. Fortunately, that means that no means of weather truly bothers him. The nipples are out, and how proud he is that they keep distracting him. Keep telling on yourself, kid. ]
Without it, we become less like ourselves over time.
[ For better or worse, for Steve and the others, that's left to interpretation. ]
no subject
( astonishingly snarky, considering he must look like a walking talking bloodbag to present company. if Lestat is as strong as Louis, there is absolutely nothing stopping him from having a boy snack, right here and right now. Steve did not come armed, wouldn't be contest even if he did. and yet ... something is stopping him, huh? because they've had a conversation this long, and he could have been a juice box before even getting a hit of the cigarette if that's what Lestat intended.
it isn't actually that hard to figure out what might be motivating Lestat to keep his teeth to himself. my Louis was not subtle. and Louis isn't subtle about assigning Steve babysitters, or going out of his way keep him in relatively one piece, either. it seems highly likely he is only somewhat safe right now because Louis prefers him that way. which is really weird to think about.
Steve does not know what to make of Lestat himself just yet. does not trust him as far as he could throw him, which isn't exactly far. he seems to be honest, though, if he bothers to share at all. which is more than Steve can say about Louis, actually. )
Thanks for the smoke. ( this is Steve attempting to play nice. which is an improvement from where they started, actually, whether Lestat appreciates that or not. )
no subject
Voilà! [ He exclaims softly, leaning forward to clap a hand on Steve's shoulder as he slips onto his feet to pass him with a subtle tease. ] He has found some manners.
[ Better late than never. Steve is slow to warm, but so was Louis. This vampire is nothing but persistent. ]
The next one will cost you.
🎀 ??? ty for the tasty thread
Steve is good at putting on a air of nonchalance. his voice doesn't give him away. but despite talking a big game, even a casual, harmless touch made Steve's stupid little heart skyrocket. fear and thrill in tandem.
he's not surprised to hear the next cigarette won't be so easy. proud and a little stupid, Steve tells himself it won't matter. one is all he needed, and now he's right as rain. he stays and Lestat goes, at least as far as Steve can tell. he doesn't linger in the gatehouse long. just enough to stare out at the murky fog curling around the landscape, linger in what is left of the stink of tobacco. rub the spot over his heart, like he can massage out the traitorous way it thunders when he doesn't want it to. )