He is kissed, and Lestat thinks he would let Louis do whatever he wanted.

In this instance, it's to clean him. Look after him. Whatever the motivation, Lestat relaxes into it, managing to find a measure of calm before it can become overwhelming. The hot water helps, the lateness of the hour helps, although he feels as aware of Louis' exhaustion as his own, maybe more.

The towel is generous enough that he can wrap it around himself, waist and shoulder. It has been a minute since he has been in anyone's presence without having messed around with eyeliner pens or garments as simple as a towel, a different kind of creature following Louis of the bathroom and into the bedroom. Maybe a nostalgic one. Ageless and unchanging as they are, its the fashions of the day that marks progress.

Absent of that, maybe also the slightly suspicious way of glancing around the space. "Mmh," at that, looking back to Louis. "I was going to say, let me change into something. Perhaps we could share a place to sleep, just for today. But you've hidden your coffin in the walls, I think."