She takes the lighter and takes a minute to light the cigarette. It's probably supposed to look cool or sexy, but she just feels incredibly clumsy with it as she takes a drag. It sticks in her throat and she clears it slightly. It leaves a bitter, ashy taste in her mouth, nothing like Sissy at all.

"You pulled it off," she says, giving him a small smile when he mentions the fashion. Klaus had actually looked comfortable in the sixties, instead of a mess of eyeliner and mismatched clothes. But then again, Klaus was comfortable in his own skin in a way that she had never been. He wasn't afraid of being the center of attention.

She shrugs, lowering the cigarette so that it's resting in her hand on her knee. "Terrible," she says, letting out a small snort. "I mean, at some point I'm sorry doesn't cover it enough."