[ Part of her would prefer that they could both pretend he didn't know. She still doesn't even know what he knows. Armand said it was like skimming a book; maybe all Lestat saw was two years missing from her life and the name of the place that took it. Maybe he saw the inside of the room they kept her in when the other inmates wouldn't leave her alone, or the depressing office where they tried to diagnose her. Maybe he just saw those grippy socks they give you. She liked the socks.

Maybe. Probably not. Probably he wouldn't say "Ravenscar" like he knew what it meant to her if all he saw was the socks.

So what's she to do with him, with his arrogant posture and his hurt eyes?

In spite of herself, Johanna laughs. ]

Christ, what a sentence. Never thought I'd know enough vampires to text the wrong one.

Hell if I know, Monsieur Lestat. I suppose if we're being honest ... [ She grimaces and takes another swig of the bourbon. Honesty. Gross. Why. ]

If all you wanted was to dine and dash, I wish you'd told me what I was getting into, all right? I thought I was getting a fuck with some biting, not having my mind read and getting dumped on the couch without so much as a by-your-leave.