Lestat is thinking about considering maybe saying something in response to Louis' directive. Trying to assess the muddied murk of worry and then irritation for the sense of being put aside so Louis no longer has to sit with him, his capacity to articulate anything he is feeling, the value of trying tonight, and all of is in the process of internal collapse by the time Daniel has made it in.

And says that. Lestat's glossy stare at the television screen flicks to him. Cracks a mirthless smile.

"It's quite good, actually," he says, of the programming, a weary but reflexive dash of humour in his voice. Dry, mild. "If you pay no mind to the script underpinning the cat fights."