[ it is laughably simple and eddie's incredulity seems to roll of klaus like water off a duck's back. ]
Mmm, [ klaus hums, hands rising in a lazy shrug. eddie sounds obviously doubtful, but klaus watches him go to pinch himself anyway and look at that, it works. it's good enough for klaus, which, fair, isn't saying much. maybe it does little to convince this little ball of doom and gloom. maybe he should just be out there selling cheese. ] — do things need to be super difficult for them to make more sense?
[ but — klaus seems to remember, briefly, that his sense of normalcy has been so royally fucked since the day him — and a handful of others — were born. that most people aren't used to shit going pear-shaped so often. so he attempts to — well, he isn't sure. maybe this kid will be distracted by his brand of bullshit long enough to not think about whatever hell he'd been dragged out of? or maybe not, but the inclination to help is there, for all that's worth, messy and unrefined. ]
Well, hey, okay. If it makes you feel any better, I had the same question you did before getting scooped out of that fountain like a little flounder. I have to say, of all the weird ways I'd woken up in strange places, this would probably take like, second place?
[ but really, the most disquieting little part about this lies in the original question anyway. how can i tell if i'm alive, and klaus can't help but sympathize. can't help but think of some projected parallels shoved somewhere in there in the midst of over-assuming. he sighs, and for all the levels of nonsense, the next seems as honest as it can be, coming from a stranger in a strange land. ] Look — I know ghosts. I've been around them, they've been around me. It's kind of a thing.
You, my friend, seem to be as real as I am. I'm very sorry to say.
[ there is a beat of consideration. like he wants to ask something else, like he can't not think about it, but seems to hold his tongue on another question, for the time being. ]
no subject
Mmm, [ klaus hums, hands rising in a lazy shrug. eddie sounds obviously doubtful, but klaus watches him go to pinch himself anyway and look at that, it works. it's good enough for klaus, which, fair, isn't saying much. maybe it does little to convince this little ball of doom and gloom. maybe he should just be out there selling cheese. ] — do things need to be super difficult for them to make more sense?
[ but — klaus seems to remember, briefly, that his sense of normalcy has been so royally fucked since the day him — and a handful of others — were born. that most people aren't used to shit going pear-shaped so often. so he attempts to — well, he isn't sure. maybe this kid will be distracted by his brand of bullshit long enough to not think about whatever hell he'd been dragged out of? or maybe not, but the inclination to help is there, for all that's worth, messy and unrefined. ]
Well, hey, okay. If it makes you feel any better, I had the same question you did before getting scooped out of that fountain like a little flounder. I have to say, of all the weird ways I'd woken up in strange places, this would probably take like, second place?
[ but really, the most disquieting little part about this lies in the original question anyway. how can i tell if i'm alive, and klaus can't help but sympathize. can't help but think of some projected parallels shoved somewhere in there in the midst of over-assuming. he sighs, and for all the levels of nonsense, the next seems as honest as it can be, coming from a stranger in a strange land. ] Look — I know ghosts. I've been around them, they've been around me. It's kind of a thing.
You, my friend, seem to be as real as I am. I'm very sorry to say.
[ there is a beat of consideration. like he wants to ask something else, like he can't not think about it, but seems to hold his tongue on another question, for the time being. ]