Lestat made no effort to stop Eric from leaving, and did nothing but return the other vampire's nod when he left the shop. He did not like the direction the chatter from outside was going regarding Eric, and did not want to get into some kind of argument, mental or otherwise, about wishing he had not given Eric his blood.
Errol said something about shelving books, and then seemed to completely lose composure. Eric did a poor job concealing what he was, and that continued to irk Lestat immeasurably. Despite Eric's older age, Lestat felt like he was babysitting.
That was unexpected.
Lestat's gut reaction was to outdo Eric, to start flying around the room or otherwise showing off what he was to prove that he was *better.* He was growing tired of having to keep himself so in check, especially due to the actions of another vampire that was not even like he was.
He sighed dramatically.
Lestat loved theatrics, but only when he was the cause of them.
"That's one word for it," he said.
With motions that were not too fast, but possibly far to graceful and purposeful, Lestat moved to a table near a shelf he'd been looking through earlier and sat down. He removed his glasses and tucked them into the pocked of his coat.
Those of his kind who knew him at all would recognize that he was doing his best not to explode in the general direction of his last annoyance-- Eric. But to the outside eye, he simply looked very, very still.