Louis flatters him. Lestat wants to bite him all over.

Contains himself to a broad grin, a brief lean of his weight as they go. "Then you can encourage my natural affinity," he will allow, "and explain to me why this or that paint splatter changed the modern art world in 1949, why it is worth a thousand dollars."

Better and more consumable than books, certainly. It would be pleasing to hear Louis wax poetic about something Lestat can absorb in a single sitting.