An utterly fantastic premise it may be — fairly wasted on Klaus, he'd argue. Dad's been saying it long enough, and even in whatever alternate timeline they'd been flung into before that too was consumed by the nebulous vortex of the Kugelblitz, Klaus had use, until he didn't. It was difficult to see immortality as a gift. And besides? He's been feeling a little weird since he's got here. A place surprisingly void of ghosts (and here he was, standing entirely too sober)? Or was he just still out of it?

Maybe in other circumstances, Klaus would have spoken about this particular talent of his differently — but given the context of this, the absurdity of the realm they were in, the orbiting disbelief and the underlying thought of did it matter?, candor is what Klaus chose. Heart on the sleeve, and all that.

"Mm, that's good then. Keep it that way. I think more than once gets really tedious," Klaus hums, agreeably. Then — Ben, the stranger says and Klaus's eyes flick up to his face, some brief surprise. Is it irony, or fate, or cosmic humor that one of the first people he meets would have the same name as the once-dead-not-dead brother? There's no resemblance in sight, of course. Nothing save for a name shared, like a small personal joke. Klaus smiles, something a little somber, but genuine. "Nice to meet you. You — ah, just get here too, right? Fresh from the pond, as it were?"