Lestat didn't say anything, but the expression on his face was both amused and impressed.
It was all the funnier, what she was saying, because Lestat was French royalty. There was definitely some inbreeding at work in his family line, though, as the son of the Marquis, it was minimal and likely generations back. He was no monarch, no matter what he thought of himself.
Now that he was closer, Lestat could hear the woman's heartbeat over those of all the other nearby humans. He could smell her, and her blood. And though he did not allow it to show on his face, something here was very, very different.
And possibly.....wrong.
It wasn't like with Bruce Banner. Lestat'd had a taste of that, and it wasn't the same kind of different. It was almost the way that he could smell sickness on a human, that faint trace of something just under the surface that was hurting them, or going to hurt them.
But she didn't look sick. Or tormented.
He wanted to know, now.
"They might do a better job than some," he joked, the left corner of his mouth curving up into an attractive smirk. "I must know: Waffle? You named him Waffle?"