Number Eight - The Viper ┃ Five Hargreeves ┃1┃

VII - Klaus' Son, And His Girlfriend

"I should apologise. Yeah, I was dismissive, and I guess I didn't know how to process what you were saying. And I still can't, to be honest." Viktor said to Number Five, a soft and sad expression on his face. Number Eight stood closely beside Number Five, knowing that he was feeling fairly fragile.

"Maybe you were right to be dismissive." Number Five said with a shrug, scoffing. "Maybe it wasn't real after all." He turned away, taking a few steps away from Viktor. "It felt real. Well, like you said, the old man did say that time travel could contaminate the mind." Number Five forced a smile, though a sigh still managed to escape his lips.

"Then maybe I'm not the right person for you to be talking to. Look, I used to see someone. A therapist. I could give you her information." Viktor said, trying to be as helpful as possible.

"Thanks, but, I think I'm just going to get some more rest. It's been a long time since I've had a good night's sleep." Five once again forced a smile, glancing between Viktor and Number Eight.

"Okay." Viktor said simply, offering a supportive smile before exiting the room and wandering down the long corridor. He was heading to his violin lessons, leaving the two teenagers in her apartment. Five followed her footing, making sure the corridor was now clear. Number Eight pulled the wardrobe doors open, thus allowing a folded up Klaus to tumble out of the closet, landing in a heap on the floor.

"That's so touching, all that stuff about family and Dad and time. Wow!" He sang, several items from wardrobe clattering around him as he stood up. Getting him in to the apartment without Viktor knowing was difficult enough as it was.

"Would you shut up? He'll hear you!" Number Eight said, scolding the intoxicated Klaus.

"I'm moist." Klaus simply muttered, causing both Number Five and Number Eight to frown at his chaotic nature.

"I thought I told you to put on something professional!" Number Five said, gesturing a hand towards Klaus' obtrusively garish outfit.

Klaus frowned, almost looking offended. "What? This is my nicest outfit." He said, pulling on the collar of his floral, frilled shirt.

Number Five sighed. "We'll raid the old man's closet." He said, sloping out into the corridor.

Number Eight shuffled towards Klaus, tugging on the sleeve of his outlandish shirt. "Don't worry Klaus, I think the shirt is great. Very fabulous." She smiled.

Klaus threw his arms in the air dramatically. "Thank the Lord, someone understands me. As long as I get paid." He said loudly, so that Number Five would be able to hear him from the corridor.

"He'll just tell you that you'll only get paid when the job is done." Number Eight folded her arms confidently. She knew Number Five like the back of her own hand. Just as she spoke, the boy came back into the room, hands shoved in the pockets of his shorts.

"Only when the job is done." He uttered, standing in the door frame.

"Told you." Number Eight whispered, causing Klaus to snort with laughter. The three began to wander out of the room and into the corridor.

"Okay, but just so we're clear on the finer details, I've just go to go into this place and pretend to be your dear old dad, correct?" Klaus asked, tilting his head back and forth like a curious puppy.

"Yeah! Something like that." Said Number Eight, nodding at the confused man. Number Five had already run her through the plan that morning when they had woken up. He had told her about the mystery prosthetic eye that he had found in the apocalypse, and how he believed that finding the owner could prevent it from happening. He had already tried to go there himself, but was removed by security. Hence, the plan from hell.