It was definitely safe to say Lestat reminded him of someone--and that was not a compliment. Or maybe it was? The type of person who seems to rule his life by his emotions, what moves him from one minute to the next. The type who alternated between those two extremes of extreme aggression and loving passion. Was the vague sense of deja vu just the hair and the eyes or was there something deeper in there? Seel couldn't help but scowl for a brief minute, this was not Calanthe. But it didn't help Lestat's case that he reminded him of him, perhaps on a merely superficial level. And damn was he still attracted to him.

Seel inhaled, wondering why he'd ever given this up in the first place--it wasn't like it was going to kill him--and set his glass down.

"Yes, I think I would remember you. You're not easily forgotten." The vanity worked in your favor, Lestat. Seel liked it, it was very Wraeththu. It was not vanity to acknowledge your beauty, or beauty in others. It was more selfish to deny it.

"Care for a drink?" He gestured to his glass. "It's not great."