( the disappointment is heavy, and he lingers, taking in her brave and wearied smile for a suspended moment. she says it means something, and while the sentiment is sweet and real, klaus knows it makes no difference besides that comfort. he is helpless. he cannot take her pain away. they can do nothing but let the tide come in.

klaus stands, letting out a soft and quiet exhale, moving to sit in his accompanying, though mismatching armchair, dragging it a little closer, their knees nearly touching. he says what he does not only because he feels that he can, because he wants to, as he often does with her, but because it's something to say. another diversion.

he speak to the space between them. ) Being immortal, impervious... for a long time I wanted it to mean that nothing could ever touch me. ( but this... this is inescapable. caring, wanting, loving. he never could, truly, escape this. ) At least I pretended it could not.