Sleep can be difficult to come by these days, what with the nightmares and racing mind the moment he closes his eyes. So Klaus can be found sleeping at odd hours during the day, in odd places, and wide-awake at night.
Tonight's no different, as he tosses and turns in his bed, unable to find a spot comfortable enough to trick his body into sleeping. After half an hour of turning he decides to get up. At the very least he can make some coffee, go smoke, maybe read some shitty tabloid magazine until he's bored to tears.
He tugs on a pair of jeans from the floor, not bothering to button or zip them as he stumbles out of his room. It's mostly for decorum, since Claire can be found wandering around at night when the adults are unable to sleep. When he approaches the kitchen, however, he hears the tell-tale signs of coffee, of movement.
"Top'o the mornin' to you," he murmurs, running a hand back through his hair. It's come out of the messy tie and he takes a moment to knot it back at the top of his head and twist the hairband around it. "God, did you make enough to share? If so I shall propose this very instance and we can finally elope, Patrick my love." His voice lacks the usual energy, even as he tries to keep his voice down.
In the meantime, he opens the refrigerator, pulling out a Chinese takeaway box he'd put in there a few hours ago. He doesn't even bother with chopsticks or a fork. Just pops the container open and plucks out a piece of chicken smothered in a spicy sauce. "I don't see you around these parts very often. What's got you up and boogying at this time of night?"
no subject
Tonight's no different, as he tosses and turns in his bed, unable to find a spot comfortable enough to trick his body into sleeping. After half an hour of turning he decides to get up. At the very least he can make some coffee, go smoke, maybe read some shitty tabloid magazine until he's bored to tears.
He tugs on a pair of jeans from the floor, not bothering to button or zip them as he stumbles out of his room. It's mostly for decorum, since Claire can be found wandering around at night when the adults are unable to sleep. When he approaches the kitchen, however, he hears the tell-tale signs of coffee, of movement.
"Top'o the mornin' to you," he murmurs, running a hand back through his hair. It's come out of the messy tie and he takes a moment to knot it back at the top of his head and twist the hairband around it. "God, did you make enough to share? If so I shall propose this very instance and we can finally elope, Patrick my love." His voice lacks the usual energy, even as he tries to keep his voice down.
In the meantime, he opens the refrigerator, pulling out a Chinese takeaway box he'd put in there a few hours ago. He doesn't even bother with chopsticks or a fork. Just pops the container open and plucks out a piece of chicken smothered in a spicy sauce. "I don't see you around these parts very often. What's got you up and boogying at this time of night?"