There is certainly a moment mid-shower, while Lestat is listening to Louis' motions across the apartment floor beneath the sound of hissing water, that it occurs to him he could probably have gotten a co-bathing hurt-comfort situation out of this, and considers if killing himself is a proportionate reaction. Contents instead with a brisk scrubbing down that leaves him clean and his bathroom a fucking horror show nightmare, to be made someone else's problem tomorrow.

The blasting of his blow dryer follows the shuffling around of his coffin, and soon, the thump of it being set down near Louis' in the common area. Does the math (three minus two leaves one), and drifts in that direction he hears voices.

Appears at the doorway, also pyjama'd in sweatpants and a stolen band shirt with a slutty sliver of skin visible between the two. Messily dried hair has been tied back. Peeks in at the threshold, clawed hands gripping the frame, curious and not immediately about to fly off the handle about any private displays of affection he may or may not have missed. As far as anyone can tell.