Alice looked at the cold, stern Lestat in front of her and was suddenly overcome with sadness.
Just as soon as she said she would indulge, the question immediately followed. Ivan was of the same race as her, and even if she didn't want to approve of werewolves herself, she was moved by Ivan's heart to save her, and she couldn't just stand by and watch Lestat hurt him.
"Leave him alone, Lestat," Alice said, not wanting to fall out with Lestat and trying to soothe him, "He's one of my kind and you know I can't stand by and watch him get killed. Let him go and let's go, okay?"
Lestat, however, did not seem to hear Alice's words.
His tall form stood there, yet the soul encased in that flesh seemed to have flown elsewhere.
The image of déjà vu kept flashing back, and in a trance his fingertips were suddenly sticking out with sharp nails that glowed coldly.
Alice's heart tightened and she took a step back.