Under Louis' hand, that flash of anger doesn't catch. Becomes sullen, sulkier. Of course, rage can come from anywhere, including a period of silent treatment, the other side of a slammed door.

Not in this moment, regardless. Lestat's mouth setting, resistant to making peace but reluctant to make things worse. A hard stare snaps away, drops into the shadows nested near Louis' shoulder and green velvet as he refuses to say a dozen things he has the impulse to say. There is a great injustice here, and it is his doing.

Finally, he manages, "Don't you do it either," eyeline still aimed aside.