. "USUALLY, WHEN SOMEONE shows up at someone else's door, they do so with a fraction less venom than what you've decided to grace my place with," Kol replied pointedly, leaning against his doorway to form a casual kind of barrier between his abode and anything a Bennett witch could drag in with them: namely, their problems which they would try to convince him to be his own problems. Or, as was the habit of the certain group she hung out with these days, they'd kill him to get what they needed, because he was imminently expendable.
He couldn't help, however, the small smirk of genuine amusement at Bonnie Bennett's attempt to psychologically manipulate him. It would have worked on any other Mikaelson, admittedly, so he could understand why she'd try to leverage herself into what she wanted by playing on his pride. But Kol's pride wasn't a delicate sort of thing, considering he'd never had anyone outside of himself to build it upon. Every shred of pride he had was hard-earned and he already had the evidence of his own accomplishments.
He grabbed the door around its edge, readying himself to swing it shut. "You heard wrong, little witch" he said with an overtly-empty smile. "What use would I have with books that I couldn't possibly use? Can you and your lot go murder one of my other family members this week instead of me? I've got a full schedule."
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