Lestat's hands come up, hover through this initial twist of activity. Decides, he will allow Louis to attend to this himself. He will likely not match the correct urgency, and this isn't exactly the appropriate time to set about tearing his clothes off. So: he waits until the shirt is shucked off, and then goes to take it from him.

"I can take these downstairs," he says, an offer that has the tone of intention. He does not really wish to leave Louis alone, but he less wants the scent of Antoinette to linger any more than it does now in their most private quarters, in their house. Logistically wise.

So much blood. He could have had it all to himself. No sense complaining about the waste.