So Lalo has made Louis' acquaintance, and in a word, slits through to the heart of what Louis most fears. If it was being done to anyone else, Lestat could admire the casualness with which that blade flicks out.
Does Lalo know, or only suspect? Suspicion is one thing. It dogs the footsteps of any man who comports himself with a certain air, and can, for the most part, go ignored, particularly when paired with his recognition of that self-conscious flinch in Lalo's averted gaze. Knowledge is a different matter. Knowledge implies either witnessing, or participation. Either incites the possessive, covetous thing that is his heart.
For an instant, Lestat imagines burying his fangs in the lovely stretch of Lalo's throat as he speaks. He could frame that bobbing Adam's apple with his mouth and swallow that gleaming vivacity, and so quiet the snarl that has opened up inside of his chest.
But he's too well-mannered a monster to succumb to that urge in the presence of witnesses. He transforms the tensing at the corners of his mouth into an even brighter smile, mirroring Lalo's good humor; he changes the icy glint of his eyes out for a merry light, so easily and swiftly that perhaps the moment of predatory intent never occurred at all.
"Favours," he says, playfully assured, "To cover a multitude of sins. One for each wager won, of the winner's choice? I'm afraid I have such little knowledge to trade in - unless you long to hear the bygone gossip of New Orleans' concert halls and drawing rooms."
cw: imagined violence
Does Lalo know, or only suspect? Suspicion is one thing. It dogs the footsteps of any man who comports himself with a certain air, and can, for the most part, go ignored, particularly when paired with his recognition of that self-conscious flinch in Lalo's averted gaze. Knowledge is a different matter. Knowledge implies either witnessing, or participation. Either incites the possessive, covetous thing that is his heart.
For an instant, Lestat imagines burying his fangs in the lovely stretch of Lalo's throat as he speaks. He could frame that bobbing Adam's apple with his mouth and swallow that gleaming vivacity, and so quiet the snarl that has opened up inside of his chest.
But he's too well-mannered a monster to succumb to that urge in the presence of witnesses. He transforms the tensing at the corners of his mouth into an even brighter smile, mirroring Lalo's good humor; he changes the icy glint of his eyes out for a merry light, so easily and swiftly that perhaps the moment of predatory intent never occurred at all.
"Favours," he says, playfully assured, "To cover a multitude of sins. One for each wager won, of the winner's choice? I'm afraid I have such little knowledge to trade in - unless you long to hear the bygone gossip of New Orleans' concert halls and drawing rooms."