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It had barely been a week since Louis was turned into a vampire. Lestat was in unusually high spirits that night. Without giving it much thought, he made an offer to his fledgling.
"I wanna feed you my blood."
"You already did."
Lestat could hardly believe his ears. To him, having seen an opera performance the other night was never a reason not to go once more.
"Why not again?"
At the excessively confident question, Louis fell silent, lost in thought. A moment later, he asked back in an utterly serious manner.
"Is it mandatory?"
"What?"
Lestat couldn't help but burst into laughter. Louis never failed to defy his expectations; he simply had no idea what to do with his naive fledgling.
"Don't laugh at me. I'm still new to this. Just let me know if there's an obligation or a rule I don't know about."
Naturally, there was no reason they had to share blood. It was never a matter of necessity in the first place.
"It's nothing like that, but—"
Lestat was about to ask if Louis had no desire for his blood, but was flatly cut off.
"Then I'd rather not."
"Why?"
Louis didn't seem to notice that his maker replied far too quickly.
"Drinking the blood of mortals every night is already too overwhelming for me."
Lestat let out a soft chuckle. It was fine if that was the only reason. He believed that before long, Louis would grow accustomed to feeding anyway.
"Well, as you wish. No need to rush. We have eternity, after all."
It was, truly, a complacent thought fit only for the honeymoon phase.