Nicolas didn't feel very inclined toward letting up now. Instead he leaned down over Lestat again, his hair ever so fittingly falling down around them, making it just that little bit darker. He quoted, because yes, he had read the words Lestat had written far more often that he could bear. "But please stop this vision. Stop the upward flight and the great slant of the colourless landscape, the cawing that meant nothing over the haul of the wind. The pain is nothing compared to this darkness. I don't want to." He leaned down further still, so he could repeat the words in Lestat's ear. "...I don't want to..."

He let out a short, sharp laugh and then leapt to his feet, clearly not done yet. Even with an audience of one, he could still perform. "Quiet, and the realization, which I could not bring myself to confess to her, the realization gnawing at my insides like a starved animal - that I couldn't stand the sight of him now."

Nicolas clapped his hands, which should be gone, and he knelt down at Lestat's side, looking at him, madness not well hidden. "What else could you give me that would warm my heart as much?"