He hadn't a clue it was possible to escape that stone, let alone the repercussions of doing so. Klaus files away that bit of information; it does so resemble the Hunter's curse. The bourbon burns with warmth on the way down; it burns and he lets that burn stifle the truth bursting to break free when Damon asks — he asks plainly, and Klaus knows he will find the words to answer, whether he wants to or not. Quietly, he begins. "I don't want to. But despite Wonderland's manipulations, it has been helpful."

It has brought them here, exchanging civil words and drink. It's meant they are not at war, not one that has to be waged on two fronts. It means he has allies, resources, hope. It has meant —

The words stick in his throat. He thinks of Elena as a girl in silver and green, how earnest and sure she was, how she told him what it meant to love like it's a secret between two people. He thinks of how she loved him. How he loved her. He knows, even though he doesn't want to know, that it isn't the answer. "It's not because she was like a sister, it's because I understand her now." He does. He does as much as she understands him.

The truth is, "I like being able to rely on both of you." His eyes look over to Damon then. It's what he's always wanted: loyalty. Friendship. Whatever approximation their terrible and precarious group has been. Klaus offers the bottle back. "Insofar as we will trust each other." He has not forgotten where they started either. "And for Caroline too."