Standing alongside her coffin, scenting all the familiar notes of her in the air among the traces and trappings of the little apartment they had made their home, Louis feels grief twisting through him so strongly, a force powerful enough to break his body apart.
Their daughter. Gone.
The last dregs of closeness to be gathered are within her coffin. Maybe he should bar Lestat from it, but it would be a cruelty.
And Louis balks at the thought of sleeping alone.
"Get in," is far more tender a thing than the invitation Louis had extended before, in the ramshackle basement they'd stowed away in. "Please."
and they WERE roommats
Claudia is dead.
Standing alongside her coffin, scenting all the familiar notes of her in the air among the traces and trappings of the little apartment they had made their home, Louis feels grief twisting through him so strongly, a force powerful enough to break his body apart.
Their daughter. Gone.
The last dregs of closeness to be gathered are within her coffin. Maybe he should bar Lestat from it, but it would be a cruelty.
And Louis balks at the thought of sleeping alone.
"Get in," is far more tender a thing than the invitation Louis had extended before, in the ramshackle basement they'd stowed away in. "Please."