"You'd have sooner walked to California, wouldn't you? A real Forest Gump of the Umbrella Academy. Though if you dare grow a beard like his or go for that casually homeless, deadbeat look, I will murder you myself."
Klaus takes the plate and plucks up the sandwich immediately, smiling a little at how perfectly browned it is. It's warm, too, and is a nice contrast to the bite of the bitter coffee. Funny, how such a simple thing can make him feel a little bit more human.
"Don't let me rob you of your food, though. I can be a bottomless pit when I want to, don't let this dashing figure deceive." He takes another bite and peers around the kitchen, at the house he's called home for nearly a decade. The toys on the floor, the coats on the pretty hooks at the door, the pile of shoes Klaus has inevitably left behind a couch or under a table, because even he can't keep track of them.
Funny, how easily a place can become a home.
"I am definitely not the family cook here, though. Allison's pretty good but Patrick is just," he presses his fingers to his lips and gives a silly little chef's kiss. "I mean, he's easy on the eyes. I keep telling Allison I will elope with him one day, be the real family homewrecker. My dreams haven't come true yet." He laughs, taking another bite. He's quiet for the first time in their meeting, though, staring off thoughtfully toward the bedroom door.
For a second, in the lull of conversation, his mind goes somewhere far off, though he's not sure how or why. Perhaps it's the sizzle of the pan, the last bubble of the coffee machine, the sound of a cartoon explosion from the TV set. His chest fills with pressure, his ears with nothing but white noise, his mouth runs dry. He's there with Dave in the dirt, sitting among soldiers as shells explode, as bodies fall lifeless and cold around him.
He blinks as butter pops on the pan and he comes up, bewildered, ears finally opening the gate for whatever it was Diego was saying. He laughs nervously, though, and tucks hair behind his ear. He should finish the new sandwich, but his appetite has suddenly left him, his heart aching and racing all at once.
"Got caught up in the fantasy, you know, silly me." A small huff and he looks to the sandwich, picking at the crust. "Hopefully you can get through to her, though. To Allison, I mean. After you eat."
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Klaus takes the plate and plucks up the sandwich immediately, smiling a little at how perfectly browned it is. It's warm, too, and is a nice contrast to the bite of the bitter coffee. Funny, how such a simple thing can make him feel a little bit more human.
"Don't let me rob you of your food, though. I can be a bottomless pit when I want to, don't let this dashing figure deceive." He takes another bite and peers around the kitchen, at the house he's called home for nearly a decade. The toys on the floor, the coats on the pretty hooks at the door, the pile of shoes Klaus has inevitably left behind a couch or under a table, because even he can't keep track of them.
Funny, how easily a place can become a home.
"I am definitely not the family cook here, though. Allison's pretty good but Patrick is just," he presses his fingers to his lips and gives a silly little chef's kiss. "I mean, he's easy on the eyes. I keep telling Allison I will elope with him one day, be the real family homewrecker. My dreams haven't come true yet." He laughs, taking another bite. He's quiet for the first time in their meeting, though, staring off thoughtfully toward the bedroom door.
For a second, in the lull of conversation, his mind goes somewhere far off, though he's not sure how or why. Perhaps it's the sizzle of the pan, the last bubble of the coffee machine, the sound of a cartoon explosion from the TV set. His chest fills with pressure, his ears with nothing but white noise, his mouth runs dry. He's there with Dave in the dirt, sitting among soldiers as shells explode, as bodies fall lifeless and cold around him.
He blinks as butter pops on the pan and he comes up, bewildered, ears finally opening the gate for whatever it was Diego was saying. He laughs nervously, though, and tucks hair behind his ear. He should finish the new sandwich, but his appetite has suddenly left him, his heart aching and racing all at once.
"Got caught up in the fantasy, you know, silly me." A small huff and he looks to the sandwich, picking at the crust. "Hopefully you can get through to her, though. To Allison, I mean. After you eat."