Frankly, it doesn't even occur to Klaus that his other siblings wouldn't have known about his move out West with Allison. He'd heard the remnants of a damning phone call with Luther, after all, and perhaps he foolishly assumed that he'd have spread the word.
But something about Diego's question proves that wrong, no less the way even Vanya had stared in disbelief as he and Allison walked in together. A tiny part of him feels a little guilty for not reaching out, but in reality, the road goes two ways.
"Oh, what? You didn't like the old me? See, I definitely liked his joie de vivre a little more. And the hair. I think about the bowl cuts from ye olden days from time to time..." A little sigh for the dramatics, because it's uncomfortable, talking about himself like this.
He doesn't expect the apology, though, and he goes quiet, lips pursed. Diego Hargreeves, apologizing for being an ass? Well.
"I forgive you, you big oaf," he says quietly, leaning his weight onto one hand at the seat of his chair, if only so he can turn to look at his brother. "I didn't exactly have a winning track record, you know. I cried wolf so many times over the years, I hardly expected any of you to believe me. Why would you?" He snorts and shakes his head. "Not like any of you had to see me imbibing to know I was a mess before so how would now be any different. I knew what I signed up for when I came back here. I even warned Allison."
He sucks in a deep breath and sighs, nudging Diego's knee in return, letting their legs stay touching as he speaks. "Allison scooped me up and nursed me back to health. It was an ugly sight, but here we are. Nearly a decade clean, Vietnam and all, scout's honor. God, though, when Luther found out, you'd reckon someone shot his dog, his best friend, his best friend's dog, and maybe even the dog's puppy. And while I don't necessarily consider myself the vindictive type, karma can be a real bitch." An idle gesture toward the infirmary doors.
"So what, you didn't believe me. It didn't stop you from following me into that bar, you know. Didn't stop you from driving my ass around town. From listening to my tragic sob stories. I'd say you got nothing to be sorry for there, mister."
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But something about Diego's question proves that wrong, no less the way even Vanya had stared in disbelief as he and Allison walked in together. A tiny part of him feels a little guilty for not reaching out, but in reality, the road goes two ways.
"Oh, what? You didn't like the old me? See, I definitely liked his joie de vivre a little more. And the hair. I think about the bowl cuts from ye olden days from time to time..." A little sigh for the dramatics, because it's uncomfortable, talking about himself like this.
He doesn't expect the apology, though, and he goes quiet, lips pursed. Diego Hargreeves, apologizing for being an ass? Well.
"I forgive you, you big oaf," he says quietly, leaning his weight onto one hand at the seat of his chair, if only so he can turn to look at his brother. "I didn't exactly have a winning track record, you know. I cried wolf so many times over the years, I hardly expected any of you to believe me. Why would you?" He snorts and shakes his head. "Not like any of you had to see me imbibing to know I was a mess before so how would now be any different. I knew what I signed up for when I came back here. I even warned Allison."
He sucks in a deep breath and sighs, nudging Diego's knee in return, letting their legs stay touching as he speaks. "Allison scooped me up and nursed me back to health. It was an ugly sight, but here we are. Nearly a decade clean, Vietnam and all, scout's honor. God, though, when Luther found out, you'd reckon someone shot his dog, his best friend, his best friend's dog, and maybe even the dog's puppy. And while I don't necessarily consider myself the vindictive type, karma can be a real bitch." An idle gesture toward the infirmary doors.
"So what, you didn't believe me. It didn't stop you from following me into that bar, you know. Didn't stop you from driving my ass around town. From listening to my tragic sob stories. I'd say you got nothing to be sorry for there, mister."