[ Lestat's hands haven't retracted from where they touch Armand's blood-warmed skin - so warm, in fact, that Lestat might have been able to convince himself that's why Armand doesn't feel as cold as marble against his palms, if he hadn't seen his own body change under Akasha's blood almost instantly. ]

I don't want to, but... Your body, do you feel..?

[ He draws off, his mind spinning between a tumult of raging thoughts; berating himself for stopping when Armand clearly needs this and so does he; wondering why Armand is letting him do this after everything he'd done; wondering why he wants to do this to Armand after everything he'd done; wondering what Armand is thinking about, feeling... wondering what, if anything, Armand feels in his extremities as Akasha's blood soaks in to his body through his bloodstream. ]

Tell me.. do you feel any different? I have to know, Armand. Please.