Lestat considers a cigarette, except he's pretty sure his lungs are still trying to work out how to be lungs again, and it would be very undignified to cough his way through a puff and probably hork up some of this blood he just took. So. He stays here, at the edge of this sofa, hair drying into frayed curls. Nebulas of bruises across his face, some of the swelling going down. Little red bleed throughs where his eyes should only be white.

A reflexively sullen cast to the look flicked to Daniel when asked so directly.

"I said in the car," he says, after a beat. "I attacked him. We fought. I hid. I don't know where he is," is offered a little more insistently, like perhaps this is the chase Daniel and Louis would like him to cut to, casting a glance to Louis to include him in this answer. "If he isn't where I left him, and you would have noticed."