She's certainly not uninvited, nor unwelcome. That is what he'd impress upon her anyway; he is mildly interested in her situation enough to say so. What is it about the young and darling Kate that her companion is so dedicated to hover like a hawk? Obsession? Protectiveness? A bond deeper than that? "I supposed you were." Klaus offers her the drink, the fizz of the champagne still receding down into the flute. He means no insult; the benign, teasing look in his eye communicates as much. "I've been here for some months. About half a year."

And with a charming smile: "You can call me Klaus."