All language subtitles for Interview with the Vampire - 01x02 - After the Phantoms of Your Former Self.GLHF+ION10.English.C.edit.Addic7ed.com

So, Mr. du Lac. How long
have you been dead?

I'm saying you'd do it for 10%.

10% for all the work?

These men look down on you.

Do you not know your value?

He wouldn't tell me how he did it.

Don't do that here! Not with my family.

I loved my brother more
than anyone on Earth.

Paul! Paul!

Paul's in Hell because of you.

Help me, please!

I laid down with the devil.

Be my companion, Louis.

- Synced and corrected by Firefly -
- www.addic7ed.com -

It's Venetian.

A contemporary of Tintoretto's.

"Marius de Romanus".

Never heard of him.

Little of his work survives.

Mr. de Pointe du Lac covets the rare.

Do you hear that?

I keep hearing that sound.

Well, the building sways a bit,

but that is according
to its design, given the height.

We call it the groan.

It won't disturb your meal,
which is ready now.

Did you always work for him?

Please have a seat.

Sign an NDA?

I mean, is it only work
or are you and he... ?

I serve a god.

It is my honor to serve.

Mr. de Pointe du Lac will
join you at course seven.

Seven? Wait, but how many
courses are there?

Fattening me up for the inevitable end?

Duck foie gras terrine, pickled fruit,

roasted apple bonbon.

There he is.

You missed at least three
or four endangered species.

I want to apologize
for my outburst earlier.

I can assure you,
it will not happen again.

Memory is a monster.

We forget, it doesn't.

Uh, this is session two,
Louis de Pointe du Lac.

Eh, can we turn down the music?

Ajoblanco.

Bread, crushed almonds, garlic,
olive oil, and salt,

a garnish of green grapes,

and AB negative, fresh from the farm.

Bon appétit.

Part of me wants to ask about the farm.

Two vampires walk into a church.

That's where we left off.

Blissing out post-priesticide.

The bliss was merely
a stage in my transformation...

pain followed, a seizing
and unrelenting pain,

through which I would pass
before my apprenticeship began.

What's happening?

Your body is confused.

Your lungs feel like water,
your heart, fire.

You feel as if you're dying,

because you are.

And then, there's the retching.

I recognize the hypocrite I am,

emphasizing cleanliness
after I overindulged,

but a proper disposal is
the penance of a sated vampire.

And you won't always have
a conveniently located graveyard

nearby, so...

Nuh-uh-uh-uh.

Nuh-uh-uh.

We live off the blood of the living.

Lap up the blood of the deceased

and it'll suck you
right down into death,

along with your victim.

Hmm?

Ugh.

Uh.

Louis.

There's the spark.

Lestat's blood was giggling inside me,

teasing my senses,
illuminating the district

with overwhelming detail,

as if I had walked
my entire life as a dead man,

and now, dead, could finally receive

the secrets of existence.

You were fucking loaded.

Beyond articulation.

Your ears will pick up the world

like a maddening symphony.

Follow my voice, a single strain.

Your eyes will wander,
led by your hunger.

Are you hungry, Louis?

Uh-huh.

They were your brothers
and sisters once,

but now they're your savory inferiors.

A young Tempranillo, fleshy and tart.

A Primitivo, hints of iron,
rather plain otherwise.

A pair of oak-aged cabernet,
thick-skinned and chewy.

♪ Way haul away ♪

- ♪ We'll haul away, Joe ♪
- Hunting is an art.

You have the power to subdue
anyone you want,

but sometimes restraint
is your most powerful weapon.

♪ Way haul away, we'll haul away, Joe ♪

♪ Way haul away,
we'll haul away, my Rosie ♪

- ♪ Way haul away ♪
- Him.

Straight to the prettiest girl

at the party.

I admire the aesthetic,

but you'll spend most of your evening

trying to separate him from his crew.

You'll race the sun to the kill,

and when he turns up
missing in the morning,

you'll have half the frigate
on the prowl, looking for him.

In the beginning, it's best
to let the food come to you.

Here you go.

I was a baby bird in Lestat's nest...

not yet ready to hunt,
but desperate to feed.

So, I'm taking my daughter

to... to look at horses, uh, Palominos.

You know, those...
those Indian types that...

that they run free out West,
and, uh, I gotta tell you,

I'm, uh, I'm doing pretty good
for myself, you know?

It's a new century,

new job, so I'm actually
entertaining the thought

of getting her one of these,

you know, a special horse.

We go down to the fairground.

She says, "Daddy, why is
that horse walking so funny?

Why is his... his back
all crumpled up like that?"

Well, I tell her, I say, "Honey,
once the work has gotten

used all up out of a horse..."

"... this is what happens..."

Amusing, their relentless
questions at that age.

That's right.

I tell her, "This is
the nature of things.

Someone has to

hew the oats, someone has
to harvest the corn,

the harrow, the tiller".

Why are you gentlemen down here?

Uh, now, what do you grow?
You grow cotton?

Sugar.

Sugar... Sugar.

Careful, mon cher, you're
beginning to frighten the man.

Um...

So, I look at my daughter's
tear-stained face

and I say to her, "Maggie,

that's why your daddy sells tractors".

International Harvester Farmall.

Go ahead and take that.
Might come in handy.

So

I am talking about gas-powered,

open-geared beast of burden.

Ooh-la-la.

This is fancy, right here.

Uh, just to be clear here, gents, we...

we are here to talk about,
uh, farm equipment.

- Am I right?
- Mm.

And a streamline tractor, you know,

not only gonna increase your harvest,

but it's gonna keep
your child from tears.

Oh, thank y-you.

You, uh, on your sleeve...

Whenever you're ready, Louis.

I knew it. I knew you...

Aah!

What the fuck?

The neck. Bite the neck, Louis.

No...

No, you don't bite the blood.

You suck it.

Yes, yes, that's better.

Good.

For our next carpet,
I'm thinking Persian.

Arabesque maybe.

Certainly need a more efficient
way of ridding the waste.

Ugh.

The first time is the most unwieldy.

Soon you'll be a natural.

You'll come to enjoy it, its
variations, little surprises.

I-I gotta go home.

This is your home now, Louis. Breathe.

I... I gotta collect money
from the cribs.

I have all the money we need. Breathe.

I have to go see Grace and Paul.

- Oh, dear.
- You ain't fuckin' hearin' me!

I... I need to go home.

You're going to find
that very difficult.

Hey!

What the hell?

Hey, now.

That's coming out of my pay.

Lord Jesus!

Lemme in!

Let me in, God damn it!

Open the fucking door!

The sun gives life to everything but us.

I should have taught you that.

The life of a vampire has its challenges

and its rewards...

... but I think New Orleans,
with its music, culture,

cuisine, shipping yards, conventioneers,

thrill-seeking tourists
far-flung from their homes,

the laissez-faire attitude
of the local police force

oh, yes...

... the perfect setting
for a vampire home...

... a vampire romance.

I ain't sleepin' in there.

We'll get you your own soon enough.

You've had a long life, Louis,

and such an extraordinary one ahead.

Have a rest.

It's okay.

You can be on top.

Helluva bender.

He rushed me headlong
through the encounter

as if it were something
to put behind us.

Death, rebirth, coming out, homicide,

too many firsts for one night.

Coming out?

You robbed a daughter
of her father, maybe a pet pony.

How's sexuality play in that?

It's a complicated question, Daniel,

and we shouldn't conflate it
with the salesman's death.

Humor me.

To satisfy your fixation,
being transformed by Lestat,

being desired by him,
bedding down with him

was an overture of sorts
to that side of my nature.

To the shame of queer
theorists everywhere.

I got in that coffin
on my own free will.

In the quiet dark,

we were equals.

White master, Black student,
but equal in the quiet dark.

Provocation.

Is this the primary tool
one walks away with

after downloading your Internet class?

Rabbit, three ways,
and Vulpes rueppellii,

or Ruppell's sand fox.

Back to the salesman for a sec.

Clearly, you were haunted by it, the...

the taste of his blood
in the back of your throat,

up in your gums.

Let me ask you, Daniel,

do you contemplate the life
of the rabbit before you cut it?

Or do you simply cut?

Mmm.

Vampires are killers,

apex predators whose all-seeing eyes

were meant to give them detachment,

the ability to see
a human life in its entirety,

not with any mawkish sorrow,

but with the thrilling satisfaction

of being the end of that life

and having a hand in the divine plan.

Don't expect every reader
to swallow that one.

That's the purpose.

Our book must be a warning
as much as anything.

It was the right line of questioning.

I was haunted by the salesman,
and as a fledgling vampire,

I did not readily take to killing.

When I first started learning
English, I abhorred it.

Every word felt like a doorknob
falling out of my mouth.

Chapeau is a hat, étoile was a star...

Killin' folks ain't a second language.

But when I started dreaming in English,

that's when I embraced it.

And now, I have English
consonants to thank

for this astonishing jawline.

These are nightmares I'm
having, Lestat, not dreams.

Finn, how's your arm?

Is it healing properly?

You might need a proper
doctor, my friend.

Me arm's fine.

You let me know if you need a doc.

There is something, Mr. du Lac.

The new gaming house you're
fixing up for the alderman,

I want to manage it.

I'm good with people,
and I'm good with numbers.

Hmm...

I'll take it up with Fenwick.

Much obliged.

Mm-hmm.

He's lying, you know.

He'll figure I'm a bean counter.

No, he wants the job
so he can steal from you.

Overcharge for drinks and women...

not enough for you to notice,
but enough to make him

"good extra", he calls it.

And you know that 'cause
you got in his head just now?

Vampires can read minds, mon cher.

Right.

And you gon' sit
on that skill for how long?

Hmm.

You gon' make me beg?

One might think the ability
to read a mind

a most useful gift, but,
in reality, it's quite mundane.

I forget I can do it most days.

Is that right?

Every human thought
boils down to three things...

"I want food", "I want sex",
"I want to go home".

You see that man right there?

I want you to peel away every sound

until you find his heartbeat.

Now hold the heartbeat.

You hear his lungs leaking
and flooding air?

His mind is just another bodily sound.

Day and a half since my last meal.

Church says, "Pray about it".

The Lord can't make me no food.

"I want food". Shall we?

It's not cheating with a woman

because I can't get pregnant.

"I want sex".

I'm gonna ditch this town
and be somebody.

- That's not...
- Give it a moment.

Or I'll just go home.

Voilà.

Wait. I saw a little flash
just now of his house.

Yes.

You'll see, as your powers grow,

you can see their thoughts,
like a one-reeler almost.

Dull, monotonous picture shows.

It's a very distracting gift,
the petty musings of meat.

Peel back on me then.

What am I thinkin' right now?

You'll have to tell me yourself.

A sacrifice is made when
the Dark Gift is shared.

You can't read my mind anymore?

The architects of our creation
mean to humble us.

We're at the mercy
of the other's discretion.

Just like the meat.

Hmm.

You're not one of them
anymore, fledgling.

You chase after phantoms
of your former self.

I'll break you of it.

My unwillingness
to separate from humanity

was a constant struggle
in my vampiric existence.

I felt it was essential
to maintain ties.

But it was getting more difficult.

The curtain goes up at eight.

We'll only be here an hour.

They'll seat us late, and
we'll miss Nora's entrance

with the Christmas tree.

You ain't gon' miss anything.

Look what the wind blew in.

Mama.

You remember Lestat.

Madame de Pointe du Lac,

all the kindness for the invitation.

I don't remember inviting
him, but please,

take your overdressed self
and have a fine time.

I see you have a banjo band
in your front yard.

Mm-hmm.

Madame.

Louis.

Was that necessary?

Move half a mile away,

don't come see your family
for half a season.

Don't come back fragile, son.

Haven't heard a knock on my door.

It's a half-mile both ways, Mama.

Hm.

Look at his nails.

He's getting his fingernails done.

And the glasses?

Some fashion certain men like him do.

Lord.

Eye doc says I gotta wear
them from now forward.

Sensitive eyes.

You seen Grace about?

You seen my alligator, ma'am?

Seems I lost it

by the punchbowl.

Oh, been too long.

I know, I know.

Wait.

Oh, my.

You makin' me an uncle right here?

- Who told you?
- No one told me.

- It was Levi.
- I could tell by the look...

- I ain't far enough along.
- ... on your face.

- He shouldn't be telling anyone.
- And...

- And what?
- And...

And what?

Gon' be twins.

You a fool doctor now?

Oh, I miss you, Louis.

Yeah.

You hearin' me?

Look at me, Louis.

Take them glasses off
and look at your baby sister.

Don't. Gimme those back.

Your eyes...

like a church window.

Same eyes, same me.

Different you.

Better you, I'd say.

You hide from me this long again,

I'll hunt you down
and slap you sideways.

I got you something.

Oh, no, Louis.

What is this? I don't need your money.

It ain't for you, it's for the babies.

Stop it with the "babies".

One's gon' be plenty.

There's two of 'em.

Well.

This'll come in handy, then.

Levi ain't the businessman you are.

So, how's it in the district?

Must be good if this here's extra.

Oh.

Now, I-I know it's hard to see it now,

but Mr. Fenwick gon' have himself

the most profitable sportin' house

this side of Basin Street.

The alderman certainly thinks so,

but then you have to ask
yourself why he sent me.

New business, new partner.

No, sir, Mr. Carlo, I-I'd
do the same thing myself.

You got your own personal
attorney, do you, boy?

No, sir.

But then, I'm not an alderman, am I?

No, you're his partner.

Hm.

These balconies, they have
to be decorative only.

Building codes allow those
for residents, not for business.

Well, that's only if you
call it a balcony.

What are you callin' it?

Fire escape.

That's clever, my boy.

That's very clever.

Right.

Dozen rooms, proper acoustics
for the musicians.

You know, good for those waitin'.

Best to drown out the business
behind the walls.

Yes.

Oh, you really do have a mind
inside out head of yours,

don't you?

I-I know some of the finishes
seem penny heavy,

but it's the alderman's
name goin' out there,

so every detail has to shout
"exclusivity".

You're bright and industrious, huh?

I trust you're overseeing all
stages of construction as well?

Yes, sir.

Fire escape.

Now, I must say, I had my doubts, but

you really have earned your 15%.

You truly are an exceptional Negro.

- Thank you, sir.
- Mm-hmm.

Ah, "fire escape".

- "Exceptional Negro".
- Ah, yes.

"Thank you, sir".

It was the call and response
of my entire life.

I had let them talk to me
like that so long,

I stopped hearing it.

"Yes, sir".

"Of course, sir".

Subject, verb, agreement, "sir".

Smile, nod, "yes, sir".

They all came from
the same organ inside me...

an organ unknown to science at the time.

Because what scientist would
look for an organ found only

in Black men who use
their weakness to rise?

But I wasn't a man anymore.

I was something else.

I had powers now and decades
of rage to process,

and it was both random and unfortunate,

the man picked that night
to dabble in fuckery.

If not him, would have been
the next man.

Louis, my boy, j...

This was your man's esquire,
sent in his stead!

- I was hungry.
- Stone's throw

from your place of business.

- What were you thinking?
- He disrespected me.

How did he do that?

He told me I did a good job.

You are a library of confusion.

There's some things...

... you don't get about America, Lestat.

Yes, let's have this conversation again.

Colored, white.

Creole, French.

Queer, half-queer,
mostly queer, what is it?

Non-discriminating.

Complicated situation

we got here's what I'm saying.

A couple of parish priests

go missing, people say, "Fine.

Most likely kid-fiddlers".

But this, this was
an important man in town.

The police will be looking
for this man, fledgling.

That's why we got this beast, yeah?

No, you need to show
restraint, fledgling!

Oh, you need to stop using
that word right now,

'cause it's soundin'
a little like "slave".

- Don't say it.
- Well, that's what

it fuckin' sound like.

It's what it feel like sometimes.

And the carousel comes around again.

Fuck you.

I don't like sleeping angry.

For the record, if disrespect
was done to you,

I would have killed him myself.

Well, what can I do
to make it up to you?

I wanna buy the Fair Play Saloon.

That's ambitious.

If you don't wanna help,
I'll do it myself.

Ridiculous of you to mix human
and vampire business.

It always ends poorly.

But how can I stop you?

How can I say no to you?

Sign here and here and here.

Well, I do not see
the clause in this paperwork

wherein I continue to eat,
drink, and fornicate

on the house.

Louis?

You have my word, and my word
is thicker than paper...

- Mm.
- ... Tom.

It was a grand and loving
gesture on Lestat's part.

That's a mighty tall ladder
you're climbin', Mr. du Lac.

And I was now the owner

of the brightest club in the district.

My club, my rules.

I opened the doors to anyone
with money to burn.

I paid the staff better,
paid the band better,

all the while helping those
who had been with me

down the block to better themselves.

- Miss Williams.
- Mr. Du Lac.

And it was a pointless point of pride

that I paid back every cent
I borrowed from Lestat.

It was everything I had
ever wanted or wished for.

And it doubled nicely
as a revolving door of prey.

You fellas know where I can
find the Fair Play Saloon?

You about five years late.

So how long are you in town for?

Uh, yeah, I'm just...

From 1912 to 1917,

I made a mountain of money,

enough to retire and
be buried like a pharaoh.

But in the essential duties
of the executor in charge,

I had been most delinquent.

We named him Benjamin.

Benny.

Did you even meet the twins?

- No, ma'am.
- Ma'am?

I look that old to you?

No, I mean, I haven't had the pleasure

of meetin' more of the family.

I've been so busy with work,
and, you know...

Him?

You know my situation.

How are things with you and...

It's Lestat still, right?

- Yes, it's Lestat.
- Shh!

Got some gumbo on the stove still.

Tasted great this evening.

Let me fix you something.

I'm good.

Hold your nephew.

He's the quiet one, this one.

The other two...

the twins?

Lord, help us.

All right. Here it is.

Still warm.

Well?

No, please.

You look good.

You should stay the night.

I'm sure Mama would love to see you.

Shh, shh.

Let's see if he goes
back down, let's see.

Honey, the twins again!

- Grace!
- Okay.

Let... Let me just see
what the hell is goin' on.

- Oh, no, I...
- Shh.

I no longer kill.

My last victim was in the year 2000.

Some Y2K disagreement?

I want our readers to understand that.

Okay.

Did you eat the baby?

I sit here a master of my instincts.

Mm-hmm.

And what about the others out there?

Have they mastered theirs?

Just the opposite.

Most of them are slaves to the blood,

exhausted from decades,
centuries of hiding,

giddy to increase their numbers.

Mm-hmm.

Two questions...

did you eat the baby?

And is the pandemic the opening
they've been waiting for?

Pandemic, the unraveling
of geopolitical foundations.

And you know this how?

You guys have a thread on 8chan?

I hear them.

Our thoughts can travel
thousands of miles

to one another.

I can stand out on my balcony,
close my eyes,

and they're plotting speeds to me.

One of them, a brute in Madagascar,

called it "the great conversion".

The great conversion?

Well, good luck with that,
because most people I know like

to play little ball in the afternoon,

or maybe going down to the beach,

catching a few rays.

Yes.

What on earth would a meth-addicted son

of a coal miner in West Virginia
want with eternal life?

Did you eat the baby?

Or the Arab youth whose family
were wiped from existence...

- Did you eat the baby?
- ... by a Western drone?

No, I'm sure you're right.

- Hello, Damek.
- Hey.

Mmm.

Mm-hmm.

He's American, Damek.

You like Dubai?

I haven't had the time to sight-see.

Go to Kite Beach.

It's good.

Kites.

Mmm.

Thank you, Damek.

See you soon.

As I was saying, I no longer kill.

You might have a drinking problem.

Rashid!

The baby.

Benny? Benny!

I had him in my arms...

... and I was ready to tear into him.

I'm never gon' get control over it.

You've been skipping meals lately.

Don't think I haven't noticed.

It was my nephew.

You have to stop seeing them, Louis.

They'll grow fearful of you
if they haven't already.

I can't do it.

It's a rite of passage for all of us.

If you love your family,
as I know you do,

spare them all the pain
that you are causing them.

I ain't never gon' have
a family of my own, am I?

No sons, no daughters.

I'm your family, Louis.

You should just throw me
in the incinerator

and make another one.

Hmm. And what a waste that would be.

I have two centuries walked
this Earth and can report,

you have no twin.

No one as angry, as stubborn,
as unaccommodating,

- as maddening...
- Sound like trash to me.

As loving, as dedicated, as thoughtful,

as imperfectly perfect as you've become.

You're a challenge every
sunset, Saint Louis,

and I'd have it no other way.

Here's an idea... let's take a holiday.

What about Rome?

Rome? R-Rome, Italy?

Would you prefer Rome, Wisconsin?

I can't just pick up and go to Rome.

I got a business to run.

Leave the Azalea to the capable
hands of Miss Bricktop

and follow the Appian Way.

How you gon' get coffins
across the Atlantic?

It can be an inconvenience,
but not impossible, obviously.

Well, how do you get them
from ship to train to cab?

Ah, the changeovers can
be jarring, I'll give you that.

Well, maybe there's a deaf,
blind porter we can hire

and kill when we get to the hotel.

Well, I had been
thinking the Inghilterra.

Imagine hunting between the Caffe Greco

and the Spanish Steps.

But you've made your point. Pity.

We'll just have to settle
for Rome coming to us.

Oh, another opera.

Not another opera.

Donizetti's comic masterpiece,
"Don Pasquale".

I was an acquaintance of his,
and I saw the premiere

at the Salle Ventadour 73 years ago,

and I remember it like it was yesterday.

I almost ate my nephew, Lestat.

It's the soprano
Sofia Consoli's American debut,

her fifth stop in a 22-city tour,

so the orchestra should be
in excellent form.

I have a private box,
and I had tuxedos made.

I've been neglectful of our romance.

And a steadfast pupil
deserves a divine reward.

He had a way about him,
those first years, Lestat.

Preternaturally charming,
occasionally thoughtful.

He was my murderer, my mentor,
my lover, and my maker...

all of those things at once.

He didn't choose me to be his doormat.

I knew he enjoyed it when I fought back,

but there was present

a kind of worship on my part.

The earth beneath me always felt liquid.

The status I enjoyed in Storyville

did not extend itself
to the operators and patrons

of the French Opera House
on Bourbon and Toulouse.

We did what we always did
to avoid conflicts there.

I performed as his valet,
walked a pace behind him,

took his overcoat once
we found our seats,

remained standing in the back of the box

until the lights went down,
and only joined next to him

once the overture had begun.

And again...

... he had a way about him,

so that as I sat there
trying to practice restraint,

simmering in my indignation...

... Lestat seized it as
opportunity to disarm me.

There is one thing about being a vampire

that I most fear above all else...

... and that is loneliness.

You can't imagine the emptiness...

a void stretching out
for decades at a time.

You take this feeling away
from me, Louis.

We must stay together
and take precaution

and never part.

How many of us are out there?

We can't be the only ones.

How many vampires?

Not many, I'm afraid.

Maybe 100,

101.

The touring production of "Don Pasquale"

was a cheap affair,

but the soprano was everything
Lestat said she would be.

And music,

that was where Lestat
separated man from food.

Music pierced his damned soul.

And any human who were involved
with the creation of it

existed on an elevated
plane in his eyes.

I was moved to see he too
had his human attachments.

And this woman sang for us, it seemed,

articulating the difficult love

we often had trouble
expressing ourselves.

There was one issue, however,

that threatened to pop the
bubble of our Italian holiday,

and that was the tenor playing Ernesto.

To be kind, he did not live

in the soprano's vocal stratosphere...

Ah.

... and Lestat was unamused.

I don't understand how someone like that

can make it onto a stage.

I understand they're a rogue company,

but are they pulling talent
from roadside gas stations?

It didn't help matters that
the majority of the audience

didn't seem to notice.

And so Lestat oscillated
his disdain between the tenor

and the witless swamp-dwellers
in the seats below.

The curtain fell like a guillotine,

and Lestat leapt to his feet
in mock appreciation,

which could mean only one thing...

the hunt was on.

I stood in the lobby bar,
nursing my complicity,

as rounds were bought and fake praise

was lavished upon the mark.

And I was surprised by a wave
of nausea coming over me.

Here I was, six years his pupil,

and it was no different
than the tractor salesman.

This poor soul was someone's son,

someone's brother,

and he was to be butchered.

For what?

An offending note?

Wrong.

He sat the tenor down, opened
up the score in front of him

and sang as it was written.

And you could see all the
doubts the young man had

about his art,

about himself, exposed on
his nodding, agreeable face.

Lestat removed a lifetime
of confidence, of joy,

in less than half an hour.

So no more of your sound
can pollute this world.

Why do you do this, Lestat?

Well, I like to do it. I enjoy it.

Well, I don't.

You don't have to humiliate him.

Well, I don't say that
you have to enjoy it!

Kill them swiftly
if you have to, but do it!

Embrace what you are!

You are a killer, Louis!

Come now, love,

let's get you to the couch to die.

I was in denial.

For in bringing death,

Lestat was an artist.

He had cut the man tenderly so
that he could not call for help,

but also so that his death
was slow, meditative.

And I felt a charge witnessing it.

I listened to his thoughts
as Lestat drank,

and this time, they came with vision.

I could see his life
as he remembered it.

Scenes from an Italian childhood...

the Easter pageant
in a mountain village,

an afternoon with his father on the sea,

watching the fishing boats

slowly encircle a school of tuna.

Something about a wet piece
of bread in his pocket.

If you'd listen to me, if you
finally submit to your nature,

you will be filled, Louis,
with all the life you can hold.

You will see death in all its beauty,

life as it is only known
at the very point of the death.

You alone, of all creatures,

can see death with that impunity.

You alone, under the rising moon...

... can strike like the hand of God.

And I'll say it for a third
time and no more...

he had a way about him.

And I was still very much
under his power.

We would drain the tenor
for hours that night.

Lestat completely enthralled.

Myself, pretending to be.

Afraid to disappoint.

Lestat was wrong.

I was never going to be a natural.

I was never going to
savor the aftertaste.

I was a shame-ridden second,
a... a fumbling,

despondent killer, a botched vampire.

I try to have a human dish once a week

to maintain the thread.

There was an offhanded remark in
your memoir about this dessert.

I hope you don't mind.

What does this taste like to you?

Like almost all human food...

like paste,

chalk,

like soap.

This is the dessert I had after
I proposed to my first wife,

after I got my shit together.

We were in Paris.

Little cafe on the Rue Servandoni,

up the way from Saint-Sulpice.

I know it. It's a beautiful street.

Alice...

half of her eyebrow
was blond, like a mutt.

She always dyed it back to brown.

I liked it when she left it alone.

Do you ever think that we...

that's to say, our kind...

were put on earth for a larger purpose?

- How was your night?
- Fine.

So you a big-shot businessman now.

I like a little variety.

The devil walks at night.

Is my very nature that of the devil?

Two vampires walk into a church.
That's where we left off.

Blissing out... post priest-icide.

Episode 2, "After the Phantoms
of Your Former Self"...

it is Louis de Pointe du Lac
as fledgling vampire

and Lestat as his master teacher.

- Are you hungry, Louis?
- Uh-huh.

Louis trying to figure out
what this new world is,

what the burdens are, and
how to use these powers.

His mind is just another bodily sound.

Day and a half since my last meal.

Part of the tension here becomes about

"I am a different species
than these people".

So if you're a vampire
and you're a Black man

and people don't know
that you're a vampire,

you are going to run up against
a couple of things.

Bright and industrious, huh?

And you don't have to put up
with that bullshit anymore.

It was both random and unfortunate

the man picked that night
to dabble in fuckery.

But you can't be dropping
bodies left and right.

- What were you thinking?
- He disrespected me.

How did he do that?

He told me I did a good job.

You are a library of confusion.

We get to have a little fun
with race and sexuality

and then the burdens of an interracial,

interspecies relationship.

You need to show restraint, fledgling!

You need to stop
using that word right now,

- 'cause it sounded a little like "slave".
- Don't say it.

Well, that's what it fuckin' sound like.

And also the professor-student
relationship. It's messy.

But something about taking of human life

is not sitting well with Louis...

and the complications of trying
to have a foot in both worlds...

- I... I need to go home.
- ... sort of reminds him

of what a monster he thinks he's become.

The killing of the tenor is, I think,

the final sort of straw that, like,

"this is never gonna be
comfortable for me".

"I'm never gonna be
a vampire like Lestat".

If you finally submit to your nature,

you'll see death in all its beauty.

While he is at his most articulate

about what this is about,
Louis fully admits it...

"I'm not buying it".

But he was still so
under the throes of Lestat,

so he fakes it.

Afraid to disappoint.

The idea of being a botched vampire,

that slowly begins to kind of
open up something inside Molloy.

I was never going to
savor the aftertaste.

I was a shame-ridden second,

a fumbling, despondent killer.

Like any good journalist,
he's sniffing around

for what the armor is,
but there are things

in this story where you
sit back and say,

"Hmm, vampires... they're just like us".

This is the dessert I had after
I proposed to my first wife.

He starts opening up a little bit,

catches himself and
turns off the interview

and I think begins to, you know,
start that road down

"how am I gonna empathize against

this predator that feasts
on people like me?"

- Synced and corrected by Firefly -
- www.addic7ed.com -