Daniel might have gotten away with the former interjection, with preventing Louis from vanishing bodily from the room. He is allowed.

But the latter—

Maybe it's right. (It's probably right.) But it's unwelcome. It's unwelcome even when it's Daniel saying it. It strikes Louis as patronizing instead of comforting, needling at the well-banked embers of his anger.

"Alright."

Flat.

Petty, maybe, in refusing to even instigate an argument. Withholding maybe for the same reason Daniel didn't touch his mind: Lestat is calm now, but it all feels fragile still. Louis doesn't want him to break apart again.

And so Louis returns to Lestat. With the bath water draining away, the wounds stand out agonizingly stark on pale skin. Louis' jaw tightens, though his hands are gentle, steadying, as he reaches out for Lestat.

Daniel can stay if he wants.