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    Summary

    “She’s an angel,” Louis said at last. Because all he could think about was how she was the most perfect thing he had ever seen. How badly he never wanted to be without her. Despite not knowing of her existence until that night.

    “Notre petite ange,” Lestat agreed, admiring. “She is beautiful, Louis.”

    “She looks like you,” Louis added simply, before he had the chance to stop something with such implications from leaving his lips. It was true, however. It must have been the truest thing he could have said in that moment.

    It was a paternal thing to say. But then, he did feel so paternal towards her already. It was stupid how real it felt, how he was letting himself believe they could parent a child when they wouldn't even look after each other.

    OR

    An expansion of Louis’ inner monologue on the night they first brought Claudia home.

    Language:
    English
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