𝔴𝔢 𝔢𝔳𝔦𝔩 𝔳𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞𝔦𝔫𝔰 𝔲𝔰𝔲𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔶 𝔲𝔰𝔢 𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔰 𝔱𝔬 𝔭𝔦𝔠𝔨 𝔲𝔭 𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔡𝔯𝔶 𝔠𝔩𝔢𝔞𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤 ♚ contact

[interminably]

@klaus.mikaelson | ■ ▲ ◌ ▼

Comments

[interminably]

Did you think me a dilettante, Timothy?

I'll send you the coordinates to where I currently reside. Leaving the gallery now.

[snipedt]

OK on my way too
I have no idea what a dilettante is btw but probably

[interminably]

Someone who appears to have an area of interest but in truth, they know nothing of it. I believe in the 1990's, one would be deemed a poseur?

[snipedt]

OK definitely not that
I just expected you were into more high brow entertainment
Like opera

[interminably]

I do enjoy the opera, and the theatre. But, one doesn't move through life unaware of the cultural zeitgeist. Especially one unflinching, undying piece of entertainment as Chopped.

[snipedt]

True
I watch a lot of HGTV too, I'm no dilettante when it comes to reality TV

[interminably]

That would be the Home and Garden Television Network?

[snipedt]

Yep
I also like this show Doomsday Preppers on Nat Geo
If I was on a reality TV show it'd be that one

[interminably]

Worried about the world coming to an end, are you? Or, were you, I should say. Tenses really are a bitch, aren't they?

[snipedt]

I used to be a lot more paranoid about it
I think it was more of a hobby though

[interminably]

I see. Ah. I do remember a rather delicious table flipping. "Stripper. WHORE."

[snipedt]

You really know your shit, I see

[interminably]

When I wish to. I was more a fair-weather watcher. But, some things stick. Are you a wine person?

[snipedt]

I'll drink it
I'm not the type to appreciate it though

[interminably]

To drink is to appreciate. Let me procure something to your liking then.

[snipedt]

As long as there's alcohol in it I guess I'll appreciate it fine

[interminably]

Red it is then. I do wish there were such a thing as 'vintage' in this time. But, I suppose they'd just call it ancient.

[snipedt]

Of course you're upset about the lack of old ass wine
Does it really taste better when it's older

[ Tim's not really a connoisseur of anything, except maybe fantasy novels. Then again, he doesn't really discriminate on those either, provided they're engaging enough to catch his attention. Alcohol is alcohol is alcohol; he'd drink isopropanol if someone put it in front of him in a shot glass. It's not about enjoying the taste, it's about getting drunk as hell as quickly as possible. ]

[interminably]

It does. But, it isn't simply about being 'old ass.' Region matters, as well as the amount of sunlight involved. And of course, grapes used.

( He leaves his front door ajar, setting down the bottle he'd purchased for him and Timothy. He divests himself of his jacket but not his leather gloves. No, tonight is not about the empathy bond. It's still not something he seeks out. That kind of bond. )

[snipedt]

Of course

[ Can you hear the doubt, Klaus. ]

See you in a bit

[ This as he's sourcing a quick route to Klaus' address. He misses being able to drive, because driving always distracts him enough that he doesn't have to think; going places by foot and on public transport leaves him with a lot of shit rattling around in his brain that he can't just put aside to fish through the highway code or something. Other than a couple sporadic dinners with Rachel, he's never actually been invited to anyone's house for anything, and hanging out with Rachel at her house only got halfway close to bearable after she left her husband. He can't work out what game Klaus is playing here, and 'game' is a negative way to put it, he knows, but he can't think of any other. It feels like a game. Maybe he just wants a friend. Tim finds himself worrying a little about that, because he's never been much of a good friend to anyone as far as he's aware, although maybe that's not the kind of thing you can judge for yourself.

Anyway. It takes less time than he expected to find his way to his destination, and pretty soon he's standing at the door, some of that southern boy politeness rearing its head and preventing him from just walking into someone else's home without knocking. So he knocks, on the doorjamb so he doesn't accidentally send the door swinging open. ]

[interminably]

Of course, none of those parameters mean much on a ravaged planet such as this.

( Klaus does not reply to that as this is clearly the end to this conversation.

He pulls out two pans they can use. His style here is more minimalist than anything due to Kol and he not going furniture shopping before Kol disappeared. But, he'd taken certain afternoons to slowly furnish so it at least looks like he lives there. it's not to his aesthetic but there are certain touches. A sconce here - that doesn't of course work, it's more for decoration. And something he electronically 'painted' on his wall above the dining room table. Blues and greens with hints of red underneath. Abstract in design.

He doesn't turn yet, but then he hears the polite knock. Klaus joins him at the door that's ajar and opens it wider, inviting him inside. )

I see you found my brother's apartment all right. Formerly. ( He can't remember if he'd mentioned to Tim that his brother had left only the month before. But now is as good a time as any. ) Come in, come in. I'd say make yourself at home, but it hardly resembles anything homely - perhaps to any of us. It does lack our creature comforts.

( He retrieves a wine glass he'd filled to hand it to Tim - attempting a swap of sorts. Tim's bags for this glass of wine. )

[snipedt]

[ Now he's actually here, Tim's starting to feel a little nervous, but only because – and this is a new feeling altogether – he wants Klaus to enjoy this. The whole reason he sent him that message in the first place is because he just had fucking brain surgery, so Tim figures if he wants to be anything other than a nuisance at best and needlessly cruel at worst, he's going to have to deploy some tact. Maybe think about shit before he just says it.

Anyway. He's down groceries and up wine. He shuts the door behind him and trails in after Klaus, trying to look around enough that demonstrates interest but not too much, which feels to him like it's nosy. ]

Your brother's place? [ For some reason, he gives his wine a sniff first, as if he's going to be able to catch notes of anything other than grape. It just smells like wine. He has a sip. Tastes like it too. ] Where'd he go?

[interminably]

( Klaus takes the groceries in hand, bringing them to the kitchen. He begins to empty the provided provisions. )

Well, your guess is as good as mine. From what I'm told, back from whence he came.

( He lights the electric stove, heating one pan first, before undoing the top of the bag holding the shrimp. )

If you're worried it's a sore subject, I hear it just "happens." I myself am taking my second trip through this future and I don't remember my first trip round this sun.

( He pauses, noting that the shrimp are deveined. Not this choice, but easier and it means the heat under the pan won't need to be shut off. )

Not that I have plans any time soon to up and dessert my daughter. Kol always did have a knack for the dramatic exit. Even here. How's the wine?

( Mediocre, he guesses. Tim doesn't much like wine. But, he asks, anyway. )

[snipedt]

[ He should probably take off his jacket or something, but he's caught for a minute watching Klaus's back, the angles of him as he bends his head. Klaus asked him a question and for a little while he really can't remember what it was; it takes another sip of wine for his memory to jog. ]

Winey, [ he says, simply. He's gonna drink it. ] You need a hand? I can handle a knife without bein' a danger to myself or others.

[interminably]

( Klaus smiles, both at the first comment. Winey. And the second. Tim can be funny. )

Please.

( He pulls out a cutting board and then sets one of the knives from the block ontop of it. )

Would you like to chop the vegetables, Timothy?

( There's enough room in his kitchen that Klaus can sauteé the shrimp and Tim can get to work on the vegetables. )