Perused a few folklore anthologies,
and now you're going to cross the ocean
and take on a society of monsters.
Previously on Interview with the Vampire...
I've known exactly four vampires in my life,
and you've all been the worst.
I'm looking for one that ain't a goddamn bastard!
Parents named me Bruce. Sent about 20 of us over
to a place called Copenhagen.
Don't start back with your books.
- Your books are bullshit. - There's a vampire been here.
Another crucifix.
Louis!
A woman vampire.
_
The boy we met in San Francisco... he's still in there.
We can have him saying what happened next in no time.
We're gonna find others like us.
We can't be the only good ones out there.
_
www.subtitulamos.tv
Paris...
Hard to put it into words now.
For what Paris means to me now is
very different from what it meant to me then.
- May I try? - Please.
Paris was an awakening for Louis.
Paris was a hunger.
Paris was many things in those days.
Even now, to think of it,
setting aside certain events,
I feel something close to happiness when I think of it.
The name alone...
- Paris. - Paris sucks.
But you proposed to your Alice in Paris.
And she divorced me in Staten Island. Paris sucks.
Paris is a universe all to herself...
Macarons are bullshit, café culture is boring.
Paris was Nazi scar tissue at the time.
It was healing,
just as Claudia and I were healing.
Gotta pick twice the pockets in this town to get anywhere.
"Confiance en vaut plusieurs
si on prend du temps pour la trouver."
- What? - "Truth is more valuable
if it takes you a few years to find it."
What you said is, "Trust is worth several
if we take a few years to find it."
A little rust on the mother tongue.
Lotta rust. And I'm looking for francs and diamonds.
- Truth don't pay the rent. - No salt,
no butter.
Can't have milk unless you got a newborn.
And read here, "Hospitals running low on plaster of Paris
for a record number of broken bones due to decalcification
and undernourishment." You want francs in pockets?
These people are broke.
Maybe we chose the wrong town.
I saw a woman tonight
in a patchy five-year-old dress
putting on a brand new lipstick.
And what's that supposed to say?
Says Paris is on her way back.
Give her a little time is all.
What makes you think Paris is a woman?
- Oh, now I know you're hungry. - Tell me what a woman is?
I'll tell you what a woman is.
Where you want to hunt?
Bourse looks dark.
Always following the blackouts. Blackouts are easy.
So you want a hard meal,
francs and diamonds,
and heaven to open up and rain down mink stoles, is that it?
That's a start.
It's custom and practice
for traveling vampires to make themselves known
- to a local coven. - Gauche.
We didn't get that memo.
De Gaulle's Paris had me etherized.
The whitest of lies turning 77 this year.
Do not leave Dubai until you've made him retract it.
If Claudia and I were looking over our shoulder at all
it was in astonishment our skin did not attract
the same attention it did in America.
Right, because there wasn't any racism
in mid-20th century France.
- Oh, I didn't say that. - He didn't say that.
I think your Algerian inferiors
- of the time might disagree. - But I wasn't an Algerian.
I was an American and if there was an assumption
that I'd arrived to blow a trumpet or sing for my supper,
it did not register as a slight in those days.
I was just grateful knowing no one wanted to lynch me
or direct me to the far end of the café counter.
That's all he was saying, Mr. Molloy.
Are you two gonna finish each other's sentences
for the whole session?
We've been together 77 years, Daniel.
Forty-seven more than he did with Lestat.
Shall we let the math of that settle before continuing?
Keep selling it.
We hid ourselves away
in an inconspicuous apartment in Le Neuvieme,
passing ourselves off as moneyed Americans,
over-spending for black market baguettes.
It was the perfect cover.
Yes, perfectly situated,
one floor above the owners,
and one floor below the students and sex workers.
Literally encircled by curious and money-hungry motivations.
We never brought our kills home.
We used the sewers for that.
Waterways of which they had no expertise.
The flow controls, the pumping stations.
We were constantly cleaning up for them.
And yet you never made contact with him?
Thank you!
Five months of anxiety
producing choices and not one "bonjour"
or "preparez-toi a mourir".
Custom and practice.
A true Parisian vampire is a prideful monster.
They lived two kilometers from our theater in Pigalle.
I had endured hundreds of nights
in the theater with Lestat. I was not seeking more.
A theater called Theatre Des Vampires.
A company that had been in existence for 150 years!
77 years and it still feels like a slight.
Pride.
The reports were confounding.
Were they romantic? No.
Who was the master? Neither, it seemed.
The male hunted to please her,
the girl suffered philosophical conversation to please him.
The American vampires appeared to be as dull and plain
as their tourists and soldiers were.
Rude.
I took up photography as a hobby.
Vampires with hobbies! Insanity!
Killing time when you weren't killing Parisians.
Oh, wrestling time to the ground,
staring it into submission.
Holding it in your hand.
"I was there. This occurred."
How's that any different from the photos
- I keep on my phone? - It isn't.
It's a human perspective of time.
When you have the ability
to stretch a millisecond into an hour,
it's a reduction.
I hadn't come to that conclusion yet.
I liked taking photographs.
It took my mind off things.
What are you looking for when you take a picture?
I don't know. A surprise maybe.
Something off.
Like a hat that's too small for a head.
Or someone realizing they forgot to do something
- and they stop. - Okay.
Then you can get mindful about it.
Ask yourself what brought them here?
What brought you here? Is it coming together random?
Choreographed? The metro late for him. The rain...
Sometimes I want the short answer.
You listen to their thoughts.
You know what's coming.
You take the picture.
Well,
if you knew the answer, why did you ask?
Is the coming together random, choreographed?
Let a brother primp a bit. Let me think I'm deeper than I am.
Is that how you sell yourself yourself?
I'm just trying to get through nights, sis.
I shortcut it. You caught me.
Take the win.
Who are you, Louis?
I'm your brother.
Who are you outside of me?
I'm the reticent vampire of the Ninth Arrondissement.
I walk the night capturing disappointment and regret
as only the reticent vampire can.
Hah!
If there was no me...
and there was no him...
who would you be?
What do you want?
How are you gonna get there?
She had a point.
- Yes. - Paris sucks.
- That's not the point she was making. - Sure it is.
She's miserable but she doesn't want to fuck
with your too delusional "left bank dilettante" vibe.
She wasn't telling me something I didn't know about myself.
She was giving me permission to explore a life apart from her.
- It's Alice, Louis, not Claudia. - Excuse me?
Oh, I see.
I've triggered a memory.
No, it's Claudia. It's her journal.
- "Louis needs Paris. I don't..." - It's 1985.
You and Alice are at a brasserie, talking past each other
and she tells you she's pregnant.
The fishing rod in the head again?
And you say, "Yeah,
let's talk about it later tonight."
I've gotta knock out another chapter. One a week.
I leave before the bill is paid, I never finish the novel.
I think it was the "yeah" that pissed her off most. Yeah?
Yeah.
"Louis needs Paris.
I don't know what I need.
Maybe a new brain in my head.
Why can't I tell him this?
I suppose I'm afraid my joylessness
will take away his happiness
and maybe I don't want his feelings
to depend on mine anymore.
Maybe I want to be joyfully joyless.
A forever switch of wild opposites at play."
Mademoiselle?
_
American?
Your French is ugly.
You can take it in for me. Yes?
You do alterations?
Ma grande, please, don't pretend to be something you're not, yeah?
Believe me, womanhood will happen soon enough.
Never thought about choosing to pretend.
Life hasn't been kind enough to allow me that.
Maybe if it had been, I'd be a lonely dressmaker
in an empty shop, denying my only potential customer.
Respect my time.
No!
The dress, for my body.
And I'll need some gloves.
I'm thinking white.
Real Rashid. Just in time for the big "meet cute".
What weirdness have you brought us today?
The Paris Albums, 1946-1949.
Oh, you really shouldn't wear gloves
when handling historical documents, Real Rashid.
- It reduces dexterity. - It's just Rashid.
Makes it more likely you'll rip a page
in the item being examined.
Thank you, Rashid.
So?
Photos are the record of time passing.
Outward evidence.
They do not lie,
but neither do they tell you a thorough story.
Who are the young men? Vampires?
Those were our young friends.
Humans.
Guys.
Some are very old now, most are dead.
And some we simply drained for sport. Well...
generally me.
Louis has his ways.
You could tell from his walk, he was an American.
I'm an American.
What exactly is an American walk?
Two wars had made a certain impression on the men of France.
There was no way to describe it other than...
optimistic.
There was a park I'd heard about.
I would go to this park often.
I was an armored thing that spring,
someone steady on his feet but...
With a history of chasing the wrong kind of love.
I'll describe it myself, thank you.
Yes.
But with a history of chasing the wrong kind of love.
Well, where better to explore who you are,
to find the right kind of love, than in a public park?
I had lost patience.
I was convinced we were being toyed with
and I could hold back the coven only so long.
I knew the park well myself,
knew what went on in the rambles there,
so I was not surprised to find him without the girl.
I would confront the elder and make him aware
of the ways rogue vampires were dealt with in Paris.
He looked like a boy
masquerading as a gentleman.
But I sensed his ancient power right away.
He was... awkward.
His attempt to blend in as some layman,
thinking he could fade into the landscape, it was absurd.
I mean...
he was alarmingly handsome in the muted lamplight.
I thought he was going to kill me.
So?
- Yeah? - Who broke the ice?
What were the first words of the ancient vampire
to the future love of his life?
I will not...
- Please. - No.
Please.
He said,
"I will not harm you."
And I never have.
Come.
And bring the petite beauty with you.
You are most welcome.
_
Claudia!
I found someone. Or they found me.
Found us!
Give me that. Let me see.
Five months removed
from their velvet-heeled arrival,
the Americans were finally coming to Pigalle.
The perfumed armpit of Paris.
Entradas. Tickets. Des billets.
Monsieur de Pointe du Lac.
Our finest seats.
The house was only half full.
A mixture of slavish devotees and over-served tourists.
We had become amusingly passé
amongst the theater community
and found a more receptive audience
from our Anglican friends now invading Paris postwar.
Five out of every seven performances
were in the King's English.
Some had been there dozens of times.
And some couldn't care less what was spoken.
They were all the same to us.
Cattle for our nightly sabbath.
But we were there for vampires
and we felt their numbers in the charged air.
Places! Projections! Music!
Screams and lights.
Santiago!
Ladies and gentlemen!
Madames and messieurs!
Offal and offalesses.
Welcome...
to the displacement of reason.
And the excretion of pathetic desires.
By that I mean...
- Good evening. - Good evening!
What you're about to see...
is, for you, an outrage
that masks a birth and a rebirth of what is...
The rope's limp. He's really flying.
- I know! - Instead of mere human drama,
we here at Theatre Des Vampires,
delve into the underbelly of the human soul,
to present to you the highest form of art
in the lowest of ways!
Je t'aime, Santiago!
Have you repressions that need airing?
Oh, you've come to the right place.
Phobias toward your next of kin?
Amis, we assist in turning down the sheets!
Bloodlust?!
Fear of the insane?!
I salute your honesty.
Right after I take my boot from your arse!
But seriously, mes amis,
being vampires, and by nature superior to you mortals,
we can replicate the level of bilge necessary
to disrupt your tiny ship called human decency.
In fact, we capsize it.
So, if you don't leave here tonight seeing the world upside down
and liking very much what you see,
and feel,
then we here at Theatre Des Vampires,
have failed in our jobs
which is, at the heart of it, to laugh alongside your misery
while you cry and scream for more.
More!
Everything you're about to see...
is real.
Remember that when you leave here tonight.
You are all...
complicit...
repugnant...
and appalling!
And...
I love you for it.
And I welcome you...
even as...
you disgust me!
Well done! Superb! Superb!
_
Why does the Master have us tend to the prized,
singular plant at night,
when the rest of the garden is tended by day?
The actors performed in front of a cinema screen,
interacting with animations and bits of film
in near perfect synchronization.
The effect was wondrous.
The modern cinema had an enormous influence on my aesthetic
and the light of the projector on the faces of our actors
lent a romantic air to their performances.
The plays were weird.
The plays were timeless,
updated for the age and all from our 150 year repertoire.
They were weird!
And always ended in death or some kind of cruel,
barely motivated violence.
Life is cruel. Life is violent.
Claudia absolutely loved them.
And it was the first time in Paris
I had seen a smile or a laugh come out of her
that wasn't for my benefit.
But what was truly confusing that first night
were the efforts to make it all appear as farce.
Syrup!
The fake vampire teeth,
the fake blood, the trick rope.
It was all a seduction,
to lure the cattle into a willing belief of disbelief.
The only play that mattered was the last.
_
Woodcutter!
- Woodcutter! - Who are you?
I am what you think I am, woodcutter.
Go away.
The clock in your heart.
The gears have stopped meshing.
_
Help me, someone! Please!
What is this?
_
She's disrupted the performance!
No! No, no, no, no!
Let her speak, Sam. Let her speak.
_
Now, now, now, now.
This is an "English only" performance.
Start again.
My...
My name
is Annika Rooman.
I live in Antwerp.
I was taken from my hotel room last night.
These people are vampires!
True vampires!
This... This is real!
- Call my husband! - I'll call him for you, baby.
_
Suppose we were to let you go.
- Please! Yes. - Yes?
Yes.
Suppose the Reaper had a heart
that could resist your Belgian beauty.
Someone would have to take your place.
Your husband?
Your son?
I... I can't... I can't and I wouldn't.
How about...
him?
Oh, dear man,
whose flesh has run in every direction
from his mustache,
I want you to remember this...
the next time you're in the pew,
you turn to your neighbor and say,
"Peace be unto you."
They'll give you up...
in a wink!
Not his time, Annika.
Now, now. There, there.
It must...
be.
Annika Rooman of Antwerp.
Death...
awaits everyone...
everywhere.
Why not here?
Unconscious death is the fate of all mortals.
Up.
We are conscious death,
Annika.
And that would make you...
a bride.
Do you know what it means to be loved by death?
No pain.
- Bravo! - Santiago!
So marvelous!
Marvelous, Santiago!
Je t'aime! Je t'aime, Santiago!
Bravo!
Our coven has been here since the reign of Charlemagne
but we only became a theater company
after Danton was guillotined.
Ah! Do I hear French from the lips of an English company?
Sorry.
Ah, better, better. If you desire to seduce on stage
you must live it off stage! Thank you.
London was not made overnight, Maitre.
And that is why several Toulousian G's
pricked my ear in act four.
- Did you catch that Englishman? - Oh, I did, Maitre.
Otherwise very committed tonight, Madame.
- Merci. - That goes for the entire company.
Very committed tonight! Bravo! Brava!
Even as they wipe their greasepaint,
as if this were an ordinary night.
Five months of nights.
Five insolent months of nights,
waiting for you to humble us with your appearance.
I ask you, Maitre,
was it worth the wait?
Oi!
Oh, Estelle!
The Americans are here!
Bonsoir!
Louis and Claudia.
The Theatre Des Vampires.
Fuck off!
Eglee, front of house.
Romaine, stage management, props.
- Luchenbaum, costumes. - Stunning work.
Ah, Samuel Barclay, playwright in residence.
Sam. Call me Sam.
Basilic, Planche, Merde'em, the orchestra.
- Nice drumming, drums. - Thank you.
Tuan and Quang Pham. projections,
scenery, swing actor. Father... and son.
They joined the coven on an eventful
pre-century tour of the colonies.
- Oh, the son looks... - Older than the father. Yes.
Quang here refused the dark gift until he could be on stage.
My son is rebellious.
_
- _ - English!
Father is an asshole.
Landing us our core acting company.
Gustave, Celeste, Estelle and Santiago.
You were amazing.
I was, wasn't I? Love the dress.
Oh. Thank you.
Do American vampiresses all wear pastels?
Claudia is the only American vampiress,
so I say that's a yes.
And are all American vampires
as alluring as you?
No. Louis was expelled for his beauty.
Oh, such a burden, beauty.
Who's your maker?
My maker?
Eglee here does star charts for us all.
Night you were given the gift,
phase of the moon, name of the maker.
- I don't really need... - D'you both have the same maker?
We did. Yeah.
His name was Bruce.
Bruce?
Is he Scottish?
He said he was from Copenhagen.
We met him on the road just outside of...
- Chicago. - We traveled a lot.
As you do, when the kills pile up.
We don't like to talk about him much.
He threw himself into a fire in front of us.
And once again, Santiago,
it seems you've missed the vein and drawn air instead.
I got a question.
Who's that handsome man on the wall up there?
With us in spirit always.
Our co-founder and the finest actor ever to walk our stage.
Lestat de Lioncourt.
Should have seen that coming.
Did not see that one coming.
- Big red flag, huh? - The biggest.
- You must understand... - Oh, I understand.
In a community as small as ours,
such crossings of immortal paths is expected,
perhaps more common than you would think.
And Juan looked up at the painting
and saw that Theresa's dead husband was Roberto.
He had eloped with his enemy's widow.
It's a telenovela!
I mean, come on!
Lestat's painting on the wall!
Are you kidding me? Really?
Oh, and that means...
That means you knew Lestat before he did!
- Yes, Armand knew Lestat. - Wait a minute.
And yes, he was briefly with Lestat.
- You both fucked Lestat?! - A hundred plus years apart.
They were not compatible.
He tasted like vermouth and annihilation.
You shared a boyfriend!
This is great!
I fucked Santiago too.
And Celeste, and Estelle.
Even had an aerobic evening
with Tuan and Quang Pham in the back row of a cinema
- watching 'Now, Voyager'. - Did you?
It's repertory theatre, Mr. Molloy. It's how one endures.
Lestat's appearance is important,
just not in the way you think it is, Daniel.
Oh, I'm done thinking.
Bring me the tequila and some popcorn,
let's flip to channel 300-something,
it's a Univision night!
I saw his stupid face up there and had to think of something quick.
You couldn't make up a name?
Best lies got some truth to 'em.
And that's the only other vampire I knew.
- It's gonna be fine. - Fine?
Yeah, fine. What about Lestat?
He's 100-something-year-old painting in a frame.
They got a fucking shrine! What if they find out we killed him?
- One of us would have to tell them. - Or think it!
Well, I thought it the second I saw his face in the frame,
but there they were inviting us back,
- five minutes later. - To kill us.
And right after that I invaded their thoughts,
and not one, not one of them,
thought anything other than I want to lick these two,
so we need to stay away from Estelle if we can.
But they knew nothing
and they're gonna continue knowing nothing,
cos you're gonna keep that loose head of yours tight
because I wanna go back, Louis.
- Are you crazy? - What about the play?
When they all pounced on that woman,
drained her right in front of their dumb faces?
Tell me you did not feel pride.
- I did not feel pride. - Yes, you did!
Past your empathy for that woman,
past your fear of being exposed.
Vampire pride.
Those Frenchies love being vampires.
And they shamed us because we never felt that way
and we fucking should!
- I'm going back. I want more. - It's not safe there!
Fourteen hapless vampires being led by a vampire
with skin darker than yours?
What else is there to be scared of?
Other than your own lust?
- Oh, you felt my lust? - Armand?
Oh, yeah. Felt his too.
Now I know what two blood fat cocks slapping hands feel like,
so thank you for that.
Take your people pictures!
Worship them in the red light all you want!
I want to be with my own!
Don't ruin this for me, Louis. I need this!
The coven had lifted Claudia's spirits
but seeing Lestat's portrait put me on edge.
I needed confirmation of his death,
and then I remembered his frequent money wires
came from a law firm with an address in the Marais,
Roget & Associates.
We were very close friends.
We owned some real estate together.
A townhouse on Royal Street...
in New Orleans. Maybe your records reflect that?
We were separated by war, Mr. Lioncourt and myself.
I had some work in Europe.
I lost my American passport doing that work.
I'm in the process of...
I'm not here for money.
I'm here to know if you've heard
from... him.
If...
If he is alive,
- and if so... - We have not heard
from Monsieur de Lioncourt since February 1940,
when we processed several wires for him
for a party he was throwing.
I know who you are, Monsieur.
And I know what you meant to our cherished client,
Monsieur de Lioncourt.
You say...
You said "meant".
Perhaps he is dead.
Or "sleeping".
I have no confirmation of his actual death,
and cannot declare him legally dead for years,
but seeing as you are now here in Paris,
and the fact he has made no withdrawals from his account,
between us, it is confirmation enough
for me to pass this box to you,
as instructed in case of...
Well...
I have a client arriving in 20 minutes.
You may have the office.
_
In the event that you are reading this,
something dreadful has occurred,
which is not my own death, but rather...
the fact that we both now exist in two different worlds.
Do not waste your life
seeking revenge on the person or persons who did this.
Do not give them the satisfaction of the hunt.
Let treachery eat away at them from within.
And you...
you go carry on with your living.
Know only this, mon cher,
you are the only being I trust,
and whom I love,
above and beyond myself.
All my love belongs to you.
You are its keeper.
A veil will now forever separate our union.
But it is a thin veil...
and I am always on the other side,
face pressed up against your longing.
Lestat de Lioncourt.
Lestat, Lestat, Lestat.
Love of my life, or is it more
"rebound of my life" with you two?
It's a haunting memory Louis just shared with you.
What a comfort, your ability to continue
pulling humor from his pain. Cathartic.
It's a joke. It's a joke. You serve it up.
Alice is in her third trimester.
She's steps in gum on the corner of Rues Palatine and Servandoni.
The old parlor trick.
She makes you scrape it off with a credit card.
It's not a credit card. I have no credit. It's a library card.
She was wearing that short purple dress you favored.
I liked the way she walked in it.
- She was confident in it. - You felt freer to hold her hand
in Paris. I wonder why that is?
Hitting the garage door, Louis.
All the crap, have at it!
You worked so hard to get that table right in the corner,
- so you could pull out the ring. - The ring! Yeah,
- that's good. - Just at the right moment
- to surprise her. - Which I did.
And what did she say when you finally asked her
to marry you?
In middle school you stole your dad's Playboy magazines.
- Sold them at recess. - Danny.
I'll ask for a third time.
What did Alice say
when you finally asked her to marry you?
Louis, perhaps we should...
She said no.
She wanted to say yes,
but she didn't trust you.
You hadn't given her a reason to.
Would you like to know what she thinks of you now?
If she thinks of you now?
We could do that.
Or we could simply return to the interview.
If you're willing to ask your questions and then listen,
which is your job.
Yes.
Good.
So...
your question.
What happened next?
They invited us for a hunt.
Claudia had attended a month of performances
and the coven felt she had proven herself sincere.
I nodded off one night
while Santiago was hamming it up.
Apparently, that made me persona non grata
with the leading man.
We played follow the leader.
A slithering creature with multiple heads,
rounding roundabouts with ravenous intent.
Waiting for Maitre to make the call.
When you share a victim,
as they did every night on stage,
it's merely a taste,
an amuse-bouche.
When you travel as a pack
you take on a collective hunger.
The longer the ride,
the more intense the craving.
I am in Paris with my Parisienne family!
Allez! Allez! Allez!
Put your camera away, my American friend.
Be one with us.
Where are you taking us?
As far as our petrol will take us.
Esurient hearts beating as one.
The rumbling beast of the moveable feast!
The estate of the family De LaCroix.
Whilst their countrymen clutch ration cards,
they've made quite a killing manipulating the black markets.
_
Santiago.
_
Give us the layout, would you, love?
Fourteen rooms.
Nineteen guests plus their hosts.
Thirteen men, eight women.
And, and... Oh!
Small firearms in the library bureau.
Enjoy yourselves.
You coming?
I ate before the play. I'm gonna...
I understand you supplement your diet.
I feast human every other night.
It's my way.
You're not gonna...?
I am now where I most want to be.
Nice night.
Very nice.
You carry yourself well.
Merci.
I like how you withhold.
Don't know about that.
- Cautious maybe. - It's alluring.
It's practiced.
I find myself thinking, "What is in there?"
Been thinking the same about you.
Been thinking about you often.
Tricky.
What's that?
Us.
Yes! My word, yes!
Coven life can get...
labyrinthian depths of...
It can be tricky.
Merde, merde, merde!
Yes!
She is something, your Claudia.
A spark in the dark.
Pity she was made so young.
Imagine her in a body equal to her mind.
She's managed through it.
Particularly skilled at blocking her thoughts.
You must work harder on that.
Merci!
I could help you hone that skill.
Oh, yeah?
- That'd be great. - Good.
Because I do believe I felt some trepidation
when the name Lestat was uttered.
Who?
My dear American friend,
who thinks of me often and who has...
dominated my mind ever since I laid eyes upon him...
don't.
I don't know the particulars of your acquaintance with him.
You can tell me when you're ready.
But a few of the coven can be volatile
and quite unforgiving when lied to.
Shut your mind if you hear his name again.
Also, mon ami,
may I suggest
you never visit Roget, Abert & Associates again.
That sort of enquiry can open all sorts of trouble.
As you suggest, Maitre.
Armand.
"Maitre" is a coven endearment.
- Come on, people, come on! - Armand for you.
Caught a lively one for tomorrow's show.
- Pip's a savage! - Oh, Louis! I see it now!
It's different here! I love it!
I never want to hunt alone again! I never want to leave!
Je vous aime tous! J'adore être une vampire!
In English!
I love everybody and everything in this every moment,
right every now!
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