“H-Hey!” he exclaims through a laugh, curling his hand into a fist and almost reaching to playfully knock Five in the shoulder, but he hesitates at the last second. There very well could be a chance Five's still nervous, not quite sure he believes what he's being told, which means Klaus shouldn't make it any worse. So, with tentative reluctance (because he's not old!), the hand withdraws, his fingers loosening as it falls back to his side. And there's no mistaking it, the way he droops like a kicked puppy is totally, one-hundred-percent Klaus, too.

He follows suit, straightens from his hunched position then brushes his hands off, stops midway through at the mention of wherever Five had been being bleak of all things. Shit, he's talking about the apocalypse. No, they can't mention that without messing something up; best to avoid it anyhow or else Five might get more agitated. “Who knows?” Klaus questions gently. Soft, easy-going, like he doesn't know exactly what's being considered and what Five ends up witnessing there.

“But at least you won't have to worry about it here.”