Klaus climbs into the back seat and sighs almost immediately at the rush of warmth from the air, the seats. There's comfort with this kind of warmth, considering his whole body feels as though it's turning to ice under his own eye. "Comfort is my middle name," he teases.

He does take a peek at the driver though, and with a cheek waggle of his eyebrows and a roll of his fingers, he laughs, "Oh, she is pretty. Best watch out before someone snatches her right up."

The car starts in motion and he grips the door for a second, having disregarded a seatbelt altogether. Though once he's sure his body won't revolt at the motion, he relaxes, allowing himself to lounge across the seat, plopping his head in her lap. She's warm, the car's warm, and the sound of traffic outside lulls him into a state of calm he hasn't experienced in a long, long time.

"This, little one, is why you don't do drugs," he says, turning his head to talk to the swell of her belly. "Take it from your Uncle Klaus. They're fun. God, so much fun, but you don't get fancy cars and hot assistants with fun." Light eyes shift up to look at Allison, a crooked, tired smile working its way across his lips. He's so happy to see her, away from the hospital, away from the hoard of screaming ghosts not ready to pass on. He reaches for one of her hands, drawing to to rest on his chest, both of his palms pressed around hers.

"How'd you find me?"

No one finds him. No one tries.