Klaus pulled two clean glasses from the cabinet and poured his favorite bourbon for himself and his beautiful guest. Placing one on the table for her and the other in his hand, Klaus propped himself in his favorite lounge chair. He always did love to tell stories of his sordid past. Reliving his sins over and over in his head was like watching a feature film with himself as the main character and what other film could possibly compare to that.
There might have been a time when Klaus would be somewhat apprehensive about relishing in his stories with Caroline, but not anymore. No, this time he wanted to frighten her, truly frighten her.
Maybe if he did, she would run back to her precious boy toy waiting for her back at Mystic Falls. A man pretending to be a boy but a boy nonetheless one whom he thought to consider a loved one- a true brother.
“Well then,” he sighed, “what story to tell you? There’s almost a library full to choose from. I do hope I tell you the right one. I’d hate to spoil any stories that Stefan has more than likely professed to you while in the throes of passion.”
Without breaking eye contact, Klaus downed his glass of bourbon in a single gulp and was already clamoring for his next drink.
“Perhaps I’ll tell you the story of the woman that I killed when she spilled ale all over my good cloak and refused to help clean it for me? Granted, I could have compelled her to clean it for me but watching her fear well up in her eyes was far more satisfying than seeing her free will dissipate. Or should I tell you of the time that I first undaggered Kol after multiple centuries being locked away in his box? The amount of blood we drank that night would have been more than enough to hold us over for the next 50 years, but we Mikaelsons are quite insatiable, as you well know.”
“Or maybe, I will tell you the time that I first saw dear sweet Stefan in the 1920s. I must tell you something, Caroline, watching him kill, watching him torture all of those people was like watching Van Gogh paint: it was magnificent!”
