As Klaus looked up, Solveig looked down. It wasn’t her usual style, shying away from a confrontation or not meeting someone’s eye. But she knew before she got to Klaus’ room that this wasn’t going to have some Hallmark ending. There wouldn’t be any deep teary confessionals, fireworks, or some kiss that would signify they lived happily ever after before fading to black. It wasn’t that kind of story, and something about the way he exhaled made Solveig feel like a six year old that was about to be scolded.
She kept waiting, eyes cautiously on the floor, arms over her chest, even as he looked back to her. She wasn’t sure which direction he could go with this. Klaus was a hard man to pin down as far as reactions were concerned and while he always seemed to choose his words she couldn’t remember ever seeing him put this much thought into it. Part of her wished he’d started with yelling instead, been mean to her, done everything he could to make her hate him. Solveig knew hate, anger, she understood them. In this moment though, she felt more uncertain than she had at almost every other moment in her life, and it scared her.
She was about ready to escort herself out when he moved to his desk and her attention returned to him, her eyes meeting his from where she stayed rooted across the room, though she turned to face him. She wanted to tell him not to tell her how she feels, but he was right. If for no other reason than that the man was married to the rebellion, more so than the rest of them and with good reason. She kept quite as he spoke though, lips parted slightly like she might have something to say but never really knowing what it should be. Images danced through her head at the mention of more carnal desires brought back memories.
He may not love her, but at least he was attracted to her, and that was something, right? “Klaus,” the name was spoken softly as he placed her hand over his heart. It was the second time now they’d been in this position, and her heart still sped up at the intimacy of the touch. “I do not…” She had to stop, find the right words to say, but she wasn’t sure what they were. He’d picked quite the time to not be an asshole and the weight of what he was saying was starting to come down on her. “I did not think that you would,” she finally said. “But as you cannot simply decide to give it to me, I cannot decide to ungive it to you.” She hesitated a moment before pulling her hand from his chest, but weaving her fingers with his she brought his hand back with it. He eyes were large, and there was fear in them in part, though they were mostly filled with a deep sadness as she looked up at him. If felt like there was a hole in her chest and she wasn’t sure it would ever close up all the way, even with all the time in the world. Gently, she placed a kiss on his knuckles. “And if your bed is the only place I can be with you, then so be it.”
Klaus could have admonished Solveig, evoking the conversation the two had shared on their very first meeting on Russian soil, but even the callous German knew that, sometimes, developing feelings for someone else wasn't as black and while as someone could have wished it to be. And Solveig was more than just some random woman he'd tupped. She was a friend, even if their heated arguments sometimes attested otherwise. No. Klaus had already decided he would extricate himself from that situation like a man, and that required him to be as forthcoming with her as he could.
"I know," he whispered those words so softly that for a moment, even the guard wondered whether he'd said them aloud. "And for what might be worth it, even if I'm not happy with this turn of events, this is your truth. I wouldn't take it away from you," he sighed as if he was tired. The German might have tried to avoid the knowledge of it, but it was something altogether different.
Then it became clear the woman had misunderstood Klaus's intentions, as she brushed her lips through his knuckles, willing to have whatever he might have been offering. Taken aback by the ludicrousness of the proposition, the German actually took a step back, physically distancing himself from the situation. He drew a deep breath inside before he focused on her again.
"Solveig," he punctuated her name with a few shakes of his head. "I can't believe this is what you would truly want from me," or for you, he completed but was smart enough not to voice that part, and he continued making negative gestures. "Were you another woman, or I a lesser man, maybe I wouldn't have qualms stringing you along and toying with your feelings," he lifted a hand and twirled a strand of her blonde hair in his finger to drive his point home. "And you and I might find it enjoyable for a while, but we'd probably circle back to this conversation at some later moment.
As is, I respect you far too much to do that, Solveig. And it's because I do that you know what we have to do, don't you?" Klaus gently prompted her in the direction of the choice he wanted her to make, because he knew her, and her stubbornness wouldn't allow her to see things the way he saw them if she didn't think she'd gotten to it herself. He had little doubt that even if she saw reason, she might still try to argue the idea that being friends with benefits was still a good course for them. It was Solveig, after all.
And if he had to, if he absolutely had to resort to it, he would remind her how much she enjoyed her precious control, and what it would mean to give it up to him. It was amazing to see how thin was the line between love and hate, after all.
