Lestat propped an arm on the chair, and rested his chin against the palm of his right hand, long, pale fingers hiding part of his mouth and nose, now, curling toward his lips, mind rolling over all the words that left the doctor's mouth.
He was contemplating.
That flash of paranoia widened the vampire's eyes, just slightly. Paranoia was just reality on a finer scale. It was being hyper-aware. There was always a reason for it. What, Lestat wondered, had happened to Schreber to make him like this? To make that fear thud in the back of his mind, to assume that Lestat was one of these so-called 'strangers?'
Mmmm. He sort of wished, now, that that promise to River Tam had not been made. He could use Lecter's mind on this. Between the two of them, they could pick Schreber apart, down to the bone.
He smirked.
"If under stress the mind alters," he said, moving his hand away from his face, "then hasn't everyone in this place had their mind altered?"
The smirk grew to a smile. Schreber hadn't sat down. He still stood there, on edge.
"Why do I make you so nervous, doctor?" Lestat asked, a large hint of laughter in his voice.