Every now and then, Lestat feels a little like he is being led down a path by Louis, heading somewhere unknown and strange, too curious to resist. To an opera, to a living room in which awaits terrible truths, and now to the fancy little bathroom, the sound of running water. Feeling along the boundaries of whatever they are now, exploring murky shallows.

Incapable, personally, of figuring it out for himself, clinging close to shore until invited to stray a little further out. Here, Louis asks that, and Lestat skirts doubtfully around the question, before feeling exasperated at himself enough to just say, "I don't want you to leave," which is a true thing.

It isn't a request Louis stay, really, but he feels it. Stay here, speak with him, be near, don't go be alone and afraid and sad. Lestat relieves him of his intent focus, shifting aside to go and peel his shirt off, still damp with rain water, pale skin cold with it.