Lestat rises out of his kneeling pose, keeping Louis' hand in his. No, there will be no leaving him. Not through the sewers, not even through the separation of another coffin.

The answer as to sleeping arrangement seems obvious, until it isn't.

Then, he pulls at Louis' hand to urge him to stand. After, he will go and lift the bed that conceals their daughter's coffin. The handsome perfume she favoured, the scented oils she used in her hair, the cheap cigarettes she sometimes indulged in are released with that movement, a sensory sketch of a fully grown woman of good taste.

He looks to Louis, a clear question entwined with the plain desire to lay amongst it all, as the daylight takes them away.