[ The look on her face is unmistakeably relief, and Lestat can't help but to mirror it with a look of relief of his own, his body seeming to sag with it and then soar back into life, revitalised by her belief in him and her trust.

The hand that had risen to take her cheek does, cold palm to her warm skin, cupping her face and lifting it just the smallest amount as though he's appraising her with eyes as warm as they always are when he's looking at her. He can feel her pulse still racing and though, of course, it's still an intoxicating rhythm to him, he's capable of ignoring it in favour of his own concern for her. It gets easier with her humour, and his pinched look softens, a small smile curling his mouth. ]

Don't you worry, petit rouge, I'm still the scariest thing here, you can be sure of that.

[ It's easier to joke about such things (even though its… not entirely a joke) when he considers how they're both dressed, the ridiculousness of the situation, and even easier again now that he's certain she won't turn from him and run in fear. ]

Asking if you're alright seems like a stupid question, but... Tell me, are you? This place can play tricks, it can get in your head. [ A beat. ] And not in the good way.