( louis wipes at the unshed tears in his eyes, and leans into the touch of lestat's hand in his dark hair just as eagerly as a cat. he stays in french, too, savoring the chance to share their mother tongue, and so nostalgic hearing it from lestat in particular. )
And another and another and another. But isn't it my turn?
no subject
And another and another and another. But isn't it my turn?