( a soft laugh escapes him; klaus moves to her side to lean against the opposite door jam. ) I'm perfectly acquainted with the correlation. My own mother was quite the piece of work. ( his hand lifts to touch his chest, to reach for something long gone. perhaps it's the drink, but his thoughts flow from him without pause. ) She gave me a necklace once. As a token of love. It made me weak, protected her lies. Gave my father reason to lift his fists while I cowered in fear.

( the words leave him paralyzed. his breath shakes on the exhale. he didn't intend to say them, but there they are. shoulders tense, he passes the bottle without lifting his eyes to her. ) The least of her offenses.