It's pleasantly warm today and Klaus finds his mind wandering, face tilting back into the sun as he lets out an easy sort of giggle. He might be high, might feel liquid energy thrumming in his veins, but he's not an idiot. He knows how Diego feels about his little habit, knows too well how his whole family feels, but they're not here, are they?
Even Diego, he knows, isn't one to hang around too long. Klaus is frankly surprised the man's giving him the time of day now. He sucks in a breath between his teeth and looks back at Diego, to his face, to the papers he tucks away. Something important, no doubt.
"Oh, it's always a lucky day if you run into me. Lady Luck herself, you know." He winks and steps closer to his brother, adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder. He's acutely aware of the strange, invisible wall between them, where bitterness and anger and years of a fucked up childhood lie in wait. But he misses them. Every phone call with Allison, however sparse, feels like a second of blissful relief, where breathing feels a little easier because he only has to watch three sides instead of four. Now is no different.
"But really, what the hell are you doing in this part of town?" He reaches up then and taps a few fingers against Diego's chest, where the police academy symbol is printed on the shirt. "Fighting crime?" He grins. "Playing superhero still? Though I guess it'd be for real. Make actual money. Wear a cute uniform, the whole nine yards."
He shrugs and gives a little twirl. "As for me? I'm dandy. Have the day off for a change so I thought I'd enjoy the sunshine, walk the streets, see what trouble I could get into. And oh shit, right. I was considering suicide by waffles. Or maybe greasy diner sausage. Love a good sausage, if you know what I mean." He waggles his eyebrows only to turn and fish a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his back. He spends more time digging for the lighter next, revealing his bag is a mess of cash, empty plastic baggies, a prescription bottle. A t-shirt and a tank top, maybe a piece of jewelry caught around the mouth of a flask.
He finally lights up, takes a deep drag, and exhales the smoke away from Diego. "You eat yet? Dining with the Queen is a rare treat. Though the gourmet menu is off the table, because she's got a fucking vicious hangover. Gonna need enough pancakes to soak up all of yesterday's alcohol, you get my vibe?"
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
no subject
Even Diego, he knows, isn't one to hang around too long. Klaus is frankly surprised the man's giving him the time of day now. He sucks in a breath between his teeth and looks back at Diego, to his face, to the papers he tucks away. Something important, no doubt.
"Oh, it's always a lucky day if you run into me. Lady Luck herself, you know." He winks and steps closer to his brother, adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder. He's acutely aware of the strange, invisible wall between them, where bitterness and anger and years of a fucked up childhood lie in wait. But he misses them. Every phone call with Allison, however sparse, feels like a second of blissful relief, where breathing feels a little easier because he only has to watch three sides instead of four. Now is no different.
"But really, what the hell are you doing in this part of town?" He reaches up then and taps a few fingers against Diego's chest, where the police academy symbol is printed on the shirt. "Fighting crime?" He grins. "Playing superhero still? Though I guess it'd be for real. Make actual money. Wear a cute uniform, the whole nine yards."
He shrugs and gives a little twirl. "As for me? I'm dandy. Have the day off for a change so I thought I'd enjoy the sunshine, walk the streets, see what trouble I could get into. And oh shit, right. I was considering suicide by waffles. Or maybe greasy diner sausage. Love a good sausage, if you know what I mean." He waggles his eyebrows only to turn and fish a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his back. He spends more time digging for the lighter next, revealing his bag is a mess of cash, empty plastic baggies, a prescription bottle. A t-shirt and a tank top, maybe a piece of jewelry caught around the mouth of a flask.
He finally lights up, takes a deep drag, and exhales the smoke away from Diego. "You eat yet? Dining with the Queen is a rare treat. Though the gourmet menu is off the table, because she's got a fucking vicious hangover. Gonna need enough pancakes to soak up all of yesterday's alcohol, you get my vibe?"