( klaus hadn't been remotely kidding when he had said surviving a family of seven was a feat of strength, muttered to himself to bolster his confidence amidst suctioned FBI corpses and a world threatening to fall apart by its seams.
so naturally, he wouldn't have blamed five for strangling one of them. he would equally be unsurprised (and likely understanding) if that person was him, even though his first bet would have been on diego.
but, all's well that ends well, it would seem, and impossible turned out to simply be improbable.
he isn't nearly as drunk as he can be - and most likely will be by the end of the night. it's the start of a buzz, that head-fog warmth after a long, long day, alcohol taking quick root from the lack of food, and the adrenaline before. he's animated regardless, strangely pleased that five hasn't asked to be left alone yet. ) Vonnegut's good, I guess - ( a shrug somewhere in the contemplation. ) Depends on what you're going for. Cheeky satire or gloomy realism. ( a literature summary of Vonnegut and Dostoyevski, brought by yours truly. )
( the thing is, a part of klaus really does know better than to ask. ) Oh, oh man, if you think that's offending the 90s, do not read any of my - ah - ( he makes a vague hand gesture through the air, a wiggle of long fingers. ) - "prophet teachings". If they made it this far. You're gonna be so disappointed.
( he says so as he saunters after allison, a quick two-step as she fetches the music player. the room is soon filled with ain't no mountain high enough that spurs the others into a singalong. soon, they all settle back into chatter, into foot tapping and laughing.
looking as pleased as a cat that got into the cream, klaus slides back over to the bar, and watches five fix them another drink. his sibling's cocktail finesse is far more pragmatic than his own, and he watches fondly on. they grow up so fast ) A new poison, maestro, or the same?
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so naturally, he wouldn't have blamed five for strangling one of them. he would equally be unsurprised (and likely understanding) if that person was him, even though his first bet would have been on diego.
but, all's well that ends well, it would seem, and impossible turned out to simply be improbable.
he isn't nearly as drunk as he can be - and most likely will be by the end of the night. it's the start of a buzz, that head-fog warmth after a long, long day, alcohol taking quick root from the lack of food, and the adrenaline before. he's animated regardless, strangely pleased that five hasn't asked to be left alone yet. ) Vonnegut's good, I guess - ( a shrug somewhere in the contemplation. ) Depends on what you're going for. Cheeky satire or gloomy realism. ( a literature summary of Vonnegut and Dostoyevski, brought by yours truly. )
( the thing is, a part of klaus really does know better than to ask. ) Oh, oh man, if you think that's offending the 90s, do not read any of my - ah - ( he makes a vague hand gesture through the air, a wiggle of long fingers. ) - "prophet teachings". If they made it this far. You're gonna be so disappointed.
( he says so as he saunters after allison, a quick two-step as she fetches the music player. the room is soon filled with ain't no mountain high enough that spurs the others into a singalong. soon, they all settle back into chatter, into foot tapping and laughing.
looking as pleased as a cat that got into the cream, klaus slides back over to the bar, and watches five fix them another drink. his sibling's cocktail finesse is far more pragmatic than his own, and he watches fondly on.
they grow up so fast) A new poison, maestro, or the same?