Chapter eight:
While we waited for the waitress to bring out my food, Lestat's eyes were constantly shifting from face to face. He had insisted we have a table in the back corner and that I sit furthest from the door, but I didn't know if he was anticipating trouble or just being overly cautious. I was ravenous by the time my food arrived and Lestat was so tense he could easily have been spotted by even a novice immortal hunter, had they so chosen to be hunting at the moment. So the moment my to-go order hit the table, the check was paid, my coat was on, and Lestat was already at the door. Even though he had said he was still hungry, Lestat made sure Louis was at the apartment to stay with me and that all the doors and windows (meaning a triple-locked front door and one large window) were locked and that we were safely inside. Personally, I don't think it's that big of a deal. It was one mugger and Lestat had already taken care of him. Did they think that it was the beginning of a wave of mortal criminals controlled by ancient immortals? It seemed like such a waste of time to me, but then again, my time was still limited in a way theirs was not. Hopefully, a fix could soon be found to that particular problem...
Soon after I had finished eating, I had gone to sit and read on the couch in the library when Louis was suddenly lifting me up and setting me on his lap. I vaguely remembered him doing this before, but only every now and again, because I felt it had made me seem too childish for him. Now, I could find no complaint in it, other than the fact that he was squeezing a bit tight. He picked up the book he had accidentally made me drop and chuckled at the title. It was Walden Pond by Henry Thoreau; I couldn't see anything wrong with it. "Is something wrong Louis? Don't like my taste in books?" I teased him, knowing full well that he had been the one to influence my early taste in literature and it was a book he probably enjoyed. "I was having a debate with Lestat the other night about that book and we both finally agreed that you would never have read it because it was too peaceful of a theme," Louis stated through his laughter, which he was now trying to disguise as coughing. I laughed along with him and then explained. "It's not that I like the book; it's a required text for my College Lit. class." I looked at the book with disdain. "I could never, ever be a hippie; I enjoy my violence too much. The only difference is now I take a martial arts class at a gym so I can do so and get away with it." I grinned wolfishly (not an easy feat for me, by the way) just in time for him to collapse again in laughter.
By the time Lestat cam home, Louis and I had finally managed to control ourselves and were each reading 'quietly to ourselves while Louis still held me on his lap. He looked at us questioningly for a moment in the doorway, but shrugged and just continued on to the chair nearest to the fireplace. "Have a productive evening, my pets?" He asked sweetly, obviously baiting us to do something. So, I did something: I threw my book at him and shouted, "Oh, so I'm too violent to read Walden Pond?! You jerk!! Telling me what I can and can't read." I pretended to be offended, which went over well for the thirty seconds it took Louis to lose control of his laughter. Again. What was worse was Lestat's puzzled expression was sending me into paroxysms of giggles as well, which totally ruined the serious expression I was trying to fake.
