It happens because Lestat forgets to close a door in his mind.

One moment you are simply existing in the same space as him, and the next he pauses mid-step, attention snagged by a thought that is not his. It is brief and unguarded, unmistakably intimate in its direction. The admiration is soft but pointed, the kind that has nothing to do with friendship. Very much same-gender. Very much not subtle once noticed.

Lestat stills, then lets out a quiet laugh under his breath, delighted. The expression on his face says this is less a revelation and more a confirmation.

He turns toward you slowly, leaning against the doorway with theatrical ease, eyes bright with mischief. “Oh,” he says, lightly pleased, “so that's the one.”

There is no surprise in him at all. If anything, he looks amused by the idea that this could ever have been hidden from him. He lifts his brows, glancing at you pointedly, then back again, as if savoring the tension in the air.

“And here I was thinking you might faint when you finally figured it out for yourself,” he continues, tone warm and teasing. “All that nervous energy. As though I would clutch my pearls.”

He gestures vaguely at himself, indulgent and entirely unapologetic. “I am hardly the man to be scandalized. Have you seen me.”

His smile sharpens, affectionate but relentless. He taps his temple once, a reminder of the unfortunate mechanics of vampire proximity.

After a moment Lestat did laugh at you, a bit unable to help himself, "God, you act like I raised you Southern Baptist. I mean," he glanced you up and down, "I thought it was a bit obvious."