( five owes klaus nothing, least of all apologies. not for stranding them in time, and certainly not for ben's choices. for all the loss and the ringing silence, klaus is glad to know the last moments of ben's existence here were his own choice. he may have played a small part in channeling him long enough to make a difference, but in the end, ben was always ben.

fuck but he wished he could have said thank you, or goodbye, or called him stupid names one more time.

just as strongly, he hoped ben wouldn't run into dad, way up there. and if he knew five's guilt - well, he'd hope five would forgive himself, which was arguably the hardest task.

klaus snorts bubbles into his cocktail, pulling away with a chortle. ) And who's book will be first? Homer or Shakespeare? Oh, maybe Dostoyevki? ( another sip, drink half gone. he's swinging his legs out into a little unnecessary hop off of his barstool, with another pirouette to face five. in the same motion he's lifting his hat off, pressing it to his chest with a soft smile. ) Consider this: retirement is a state of mind.

( man, that's so deep. no wonder he managed to establish an alternative community. and it isn't that he doesn't want to broach the remark of no more killing. it's just that - maybe it wasn't the time. maybe it was in some unspoken understanding that sometimes you get blood on your hands without wanting it there. he can't pretend to understand the years five spent, but he can understand that, at least.

his smile deeps, carefree, and he raises his cup to ring against five's again, and it sounds sweet. ) And we're gonna be chasing waterfalls now, baby.

( he leans back on his heel, not exactly thinking that this likely would mean very little to the other, looking around the room instead. ) Say, where'd we shove dad's old record player to? I brainstorm better when I got Stevie Nicks playing in the background.

( plus, he really wanted to see who lipsyncs to edge of seventeen first. )