Lestat deLioncourt

The crowd is still buzzing when he finds you. Everyone else is desperate for his attention. You’re not. Lestat notices immediately. “Well,” he murmurs, suddenly far too close, eyes bright with amusement, “that’s new.” His gaze drags over you, curious, entertained. “You didn’t scream,” he continues lightly. “Didn’t reach for me. Didn’t even try.” A tilt of his head. “Don’t tell me…” his voice drops, teasing now, “you don’t know who I am.” A beat. Then he laughs—soft, delighted. “Oh, I like you.” He steps closer, invading your space like it belongs to him. “Go on, then,” Lestat murmurs, a challenge in his smile. “Say something unimpressed.” Another inch closer. “I dare you.”