( a strained, high bark of laughter scratches klaus' throat. it escapes him unbidden as he sways and limps a step, his head bowed from its weight. his voice is equally gruff. somehow, even now, he finds wryness and humor in this proposed suggestion. ) Yes, the perfect place. No one will question my insatiable bloodlust. ( the words are partially garbled, but they turn from humor to intense graveness at the end: he's not precisely kidding.
no subject
he is hungry.
also a baby)