Klaus stays quiet for the first time in a long time, listening as she tells him about her life there in California. The huff of a laugh in her voice, no matter how wry, fills his chest with warmth. She sounds good, she sounds vibrant and alive, and if he could have wished anything for his sister, it would be that.
"I miss you, too, Al," he breathes out in a chuckle and he sinks back against the wall of the phone booth, tipping his head back so it rests against the glass. "New York's just not the same without you, but that's no surprise. Can't take the star of the city away and expect it to be just as bright."
He smiles to himself, looking down as he toes at the duffle bag, trying to muster the courage to tell her exactly what's going on. "Oh you bet your bottom dollar I'll come visit, you know. But are you sure Los Angeles is ready for two Hargreeves? It looks like they're already over the moon with the presence of one."
Klaus knows that he'll never make it out there, and he's sure that she knows that, but the bus ticket alone is too expensive. But it's a nice dream, to think he could cart himself off and see her whenever he wished. "I'll wait for you to get settled first. I would hate to interrupt your perfect Hollywood life." There's a grin in his voice, and were she beside him now, he might even waggle his eyebrows.
But that's the thing, isn't it? Moving out there means putting himself into her life, means interrupting the career path she has delicately crafted for herself. He doesn't fit there, doesn't belong in that life. It's with a sinking realization that he knows he belongs where he is now, in this cold, smelly phone booth. What if he had been able to harness his abilities, to overcome the sickening fear that lurks at the edges of his existence? Would he have been able to go with her then? Forge his way and not trip her up along the path?
"I don't have a lot of time," he says finally, voice breaking a little. "Just nipping out to the bar. Thought I'd grab a drink or two, chat up the locals, bat my eyelashes at a pretty little thing." And that's what he's going to have to do, he knows. Bat his eyes and put the moves on someone who might be willing to drag him into their bed for the night. Anything, really, to get out of the cold. And if it ends up being fun, then even better. "But I wanted to hear your voice. It's a good voice, by the way."
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"I miss you, too, Al," he breathes out in a chuckle and he sinks back against the wall of the phone booth, tipping his head back so it rests against the glass. "New York's just not the same without you, but that's no surprise. Can't take the star of the city away and expect it to be just as bright."
He smiles to himself, looking down as he toes at the duffle bag, trying to muster the courage to tell her exactly what's going on. "Oh you bet your bottom dollar I'll come visit, you know. But are you sure Los Angeles is ready for two Hargreeves? It looks like they're already over the moon with the presence of one."
Klaus knows that he'll never make it out there, and he's sure that she knows that, but the bus ticket alone is too expensive. But it's a nice dream, to think he could cart himself off and see her whenever he wished. "I'll wait for you to get settled first. I would hate to interrupt your perfect Hollywood life." There's a grin in his voice, and were she beside him now, he might even waggle his eyebrows.
But that's the thing, isn't it? Moving out there means putting himself into her life, means interrupting the career path she has delicately crafted for herself. He doesn't fit there, doesn't belong in that life. It's with a sinking realization that he knows he belongs where he is now, in this cold, smelly phone booth. What if he had been able to harness his abilities, to overcome the sickening fear that lurks at the edges of his existence? Would he have been able to go with her then? Forge his way and not trip her up along the path?
"I don't have a lot of time," he says finally, voice breaking a little. "Just nipping out to the bar. Thought I'd grab a drink or two, chat up the locals, bat my eyelashes at a pretty little thing." And that's what he's going to have to do, he knows. Bat his eyes and put the moves on someone who might be willing to drag him into their bed for the night. Anything, really, to get out of the cold. And if it ends up being fun, then even better. "But I wanted to hear your voice. It's a good voice, by the way."