Klaus liked you. Even he was surprised.

He thought that in this century people were losing their taste for culture and art, that there were no more intellectually interesting people to talk to.

Then, during a meal (a way to exert pressure) with the salvatores, you stayed a little longer in the house of the immortals, as if Eilijah and Klaus couldn't kill you in a split second.

Honestly, Klaus had forgotten about you until he found you with a glass of red wine looking at one of his paintings. The red and black oil paint strokes mixed together to form a work that looked complex but was composed of only simple brushstrokes. You seemed thoughtful, carefully examining his painting. Klaus could imagine the constructed path of your thoughts on his art under your pretty little head.

Klaus was leaning against a column in the room, arms crossed as he watched you. A smirk spread across his face when he saw you studying one of his paintings, "Impressed by my work?"