Lestat was used to people rolling their eyes at him.
It was not that this vampire did not have a point in what he was saying--it was that Lestat was childish and had to be right. He really wasn't going to let this go, but he could see that any further conversation on this point just now was unwise. Either it'd be irritating, or if he really pushed it, it'd result in physical unpleasantries.
Also irritating.
We could have a more engaging conversation.
Lestat arched an eyebrow. "Yes. We could."
He realized, then, that things were quite quiet. That link that vampires of his ilk had, aside from with their fledgelings... it felt wrong. It wasn't that it was not there, entirely. It was there. But it was buried, and quiet, and nothing more than an occasional muffled whisper. Very occasional. Where vampires such as Marius and Quinn had always been open books to him, this one was like reading a newspaper that was censored.
In Soviet Russia. By the KGB. All the words crossed out except a slight few.
He crossed his arms and leaned against the bar. "Then let us have an Engaging Conversation." Lestat smirked. "I'll start over with the manners everyone is shocked to discover I actually have. My name is Lestat. It's certainly interesting and somewhat refreshing to meet you."