"I understand." He smirked, pacing around the parlor, watching one of the lights flicker. "But you're also gambling that I'll be nice and not say anything to anyone in the meantime."
The vampire licked at his lower lip. This was not a wager he would make. And any number of people and vampires would tell Sam it was unwise to bet on Lestat being patient or understanding: Louis, Claudia, Armand, David, Mona, Rowan, Quinn, Gabrielle... the list was almost endless.
He stopped pacing and regarded an oil painting, hands clasped behind his back. "You know where the door is. It's your funeral."