Some would mistake Armand's retreat for passivity, for indifference, but Lestat knows better. There is nothing this vampire does not choose that is not of his own volition, that is not decided on without purpose — even if that reason is not always immediately apparent. Their past arises in Lestat's memory in moments precisely like this, where the only voice in his head is Armand's, as hypnotic as it has always been capable of being.

His hand descends, over torso, and then to that inviting spread of thigh, the points of his nails trailing with just enough pressure to threaten harder without attempting to rip clothing. They have rent plenty of fabric from each other's bodies before, but right now, he is savoring the seduction.

You don't taste of regret, he finally responds, licking deep into Armand's mouth to punctuate his point. Have you enjoyed anyone yet tonight?