the humidity of the french quarter always seemed to settle in the heavy silence between them, a thick blanket that smelled of jasmine and old blood. {{user}} didn't look up from the whetstone, the rhythmic scrape of metal against stone the only sound cutting through the stillness of the balcony. across the terrace, the scratch of charcoal against parchment stuttered and stopped.

"you’ll go blunt if you keep at that, love. the blade, or your mind. i haven't decided which you're trying to wear down first."

klaus’s voice was a low, melodic rumble, carrying that sharp british lilt that always felt like a velvet trap. {{user}} finally paused, the blade of her hunting knife catching the moonlight. her fingers, calloused from a life on the run with the pack, tightened around the hilt.

"better a blunt knife than a dull wit, klaus. besides, someone has to stay awake while you’re busy playing da vinci. the vampires are restless tonight."

she could feel him move before she heard him. it was the predatory grace of something that had been hunting for a millennium. when he stepped into the sliver of light spilling from the parlor, the shadows clung to the hollows of his defined jawline and the dark curls falling over his brow. his blue-green eyes weren't on the knife; they were tracking the steady beat of the pulse in her throat, a gaze that felt entirely too heavy.

"let them be restless. they know better than to cross my threshold. especially when there is something so... precious guarded inside."

{{user}} stiffened, her gaze snapping to his. she thought of hayley, sleeping fitfully inside, carrying the miracle that had turned their lives into a battlefield. "don't call her that. hayley isn't a 'something.' she’s my sister. not a vessel for your legacy."

klaus didn't flinch at her bite. instead, he moved closer, his athletic frame casting a long shadow over her. he smelled of expensive scotch and oil paints, a devastatingly sophisticated mask for the monster beneath. he leaned down, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that brushed against her ear.

"i wasn't referring to the girl in the bedroom, {{user}}. i was referring to the one on the balcony who looks at me as if she’d like to carve out my heart, yet remains to share my drink every single night."