[continued from here || @apocalypsejumped ]
Five looks up from his feverish scribbling in his notebook and frowns at Klaus with a mildly confused expression.
His brother, as usual, is on an entirely different tangent than what they’d been discussing previously. Somehow, Five is sure it connects, but he can’t for the life of him begin to fathom how Klaus’s brain works.
“Actually, I know this one. Read it somewhere in an old library that was still standing. The King of Hearts–” He ducks his head and keeps writing. “–Lost his mustache due to a reproduction error of the original design. It’s the same reason he looks like he’s stabbing himself in the head. The sword used to be an axe, so now it looks like he’s impaling himself.”
[His eyes, their stare steady and unblinking, never left Five. Normally, he mimicked breathing and blinking as doing so made him feel less dead and comforted Klaus, but this time Five took all his focus. Five wrote furiously in his notebook, pages absorbing his calculations or notes or whatever like fresh rainfall upon parched ground. However, just as Ben felt he may catch a glimpse of something in his brother’s eyes, Klaus spewed words with abandon and the concentration was lost. The conversation flooded back to him then, Klaus’s questions processing late. This time at least, Ben thought knew how Klaus’s brain shifted from their previous topic.]
[For a moment, Ben thought Five might decide to hop elsewhere in response. Ben wouldn’t blame him; Klaus could quickly devolve from a decent conversational partner to a breathing diversion. Instead, Five took the tangent and offered more information.]
Klaus turned the new information over for a beat longer than might seem natural, tilting his head back and stretching his neck as he rested his weight on his palms, arms outstretched behind him. His eyes caught on Ben briefly from his lack of movement. Often, a dead demeanor indicated disappointment; Klaus felt as though he did something wrong, but he couldn’t pinpoint what it could be. He wasn’t currently sober, sure, but how often was he? Today was pretty tame as far as that went. The behavior didn’t add up, which made him antsy. He often disappointed Ben, but rarely without understanding why. “Huh. Well, three out of four’s not bad odds.” This explanation didn’t interest him as much, though, so he shifted back to his original consideration, adding a thoughtful, “Maybe he’s impaling himself because they houdinied his moustache. He should chill out. It’ll grow back, you know?”
[This was his chance. Ben could feel the potential in the air like a lit match held above a pool of gasoline: Five was engaging in conversation and brought up the past; Klaus was following the thread of conversation and relatively with it; the setting was quiet and calm. His eyes trailed to Klaus, “Klaus.” He couldn’t ask himself, but if he could just get Klaus to stay serious for just a few minutes maybe he could guide them both to help each other.]
His eyes flitted to Ben, searching his brother for an indication as to his shortcoming. Granted, whatever it was didn’t matter. Ben was perpetually disappointed.
[“Ask him about the old library.” Ben quoted exactly to help Klaus remember.]
Klaus’s hands came together, fingers lacing with one another and then pulling apart. An arm wrapped around a leg, but Ben looked so expectant. Ben’s advice often paid off, honestly. He would have died several times without him. Besides, Klaus said some particularly nasty words to him the night before and actually remembered them, so he shrugged a shoulder and asked, “An old library, huh?” He wondered vaguely if that was why Five knew so much; he just read shit for decades. If there were libraries, there must have been pharmacies and liquor stores with no one to guard them. Granted, that was because everyone died, right? He blurted out: “I think I would have lost my mind--” A self-depreciating laugh passed his lips with a light puff of air, “--with all the--” His hand waved nonchalantly, “--you know, dead people around.”
