Initially surprised, Klaus glanced around him but saw no one other than Cleo.
Cleo, watching him, became confused herself.
"You alright?" She looked at him in confusion. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
Klaus looked around once more, then absent-mindedly glanced at her before snapping out of his trance.
"Yeah, I'm fine." He smiled, a forced one. "Seems I'm a bit more tired than I thought; can't wait to break in that new mattress."
Cleo's face eased up into a warm smile. "You definitely could use some sleep after that series of unfortunate events."
Klaus shut the trunk and grabbed his bag from the back seat.
"Right?" he replied.
He slipped on his backpack—well, tried to—but was met with an opposing force that halted his movement.
Upon second glance, slender fingers painted in red nail polish held onto his rather slim forearm.
"I can hold it," Cleo said, her free hand moving towards the bag.
Klaus shook his head unhesitatingly. After everything Cleo's already done for him, making her carry his bag—even if light—left a bad taste in his mouth.
"I got it," he dismissed. "It's not heavy or anything, so I'll be fine."
But even after his dismissal, Cleo's hand remained in place. "I insist," she answered back.
"You honestly don't have to; it's not a hassle at all," Klaus shot down. "Besides, the building has elevators. By the time the weight adds up, I'll already be in the apartment."
There was a brief silence, and Cleo's expression darkened. She released her hold on his arm and stared at him. Not with hatred but something worse. Disinterest.
He didn't know what caused it, but he immediately sensed a shift in her energy and became somewhat concerned.
His dark green eyes examined her, searching for an answer; however, her face showed little to no emotion—a perfect poker face.
"Hey, you okay?" he asked softly, his voice both deep and gentle.
For a moment, there was a crack. A thin crack in her facade that then hardened once again before Klaus could notice. "Keys," she demanded, her voice devoid of any warmth.
Klaus unconsciously pulled out her keychain from his pocket and held it out to her.
She took it, turned on her heels, and began walking around Klaus to the driver's seat.
Every one of her strides made her hips sway from side to side, captivating any onlooker, but Klaus wasn't concerned with that right now.
Before she could walk past him, Klaus grabbed her, taking her small hand into his bandaged ones.
"Hey, what happened?" His gaze rested on hers, now filled with confusion. 'Everything was going well beforehand, so what went wrong?' he questioned himself.
He saw her jaw tighten as she threw him a sharp look. "Let go," she said.
Klaus didn't budge. His hands remained firm around hers—not enough to hold her hostage, just enough to temporarily prevent her from walking away.
"No," he replied. "Not until you tell me what's wrong."
Cleo's eyes narrowed on him, then toward the ground. Klaus was taken aback. The bold woman from earlier now appeared to be no less than a child.
"If you wanted me to leave, you should've just said that," her lips quivered, then came the waterworks. "You don't have to make an excuse if you want me gone."
'What the heck is going on?' he exclaimed. Then a thought floated into his two clashing brain cells.
He slipped off the backpack and held it out for her. "If it's about the bag, you can carry it if you want."
A faint whisper escaped her lips, "Cleo one, Klaus zero."
Before he could react, Cleo snatched the bag from his hand and wiped her crocodile tears. Ignoring Klaus, she walked toward the foyer doors. "You waiting for an invite or something? Hurry it up!" she shouted.
"Did I just get played?" Klaus asked himself.
He observed her from the car as she approached the automatic doors, her hips swaying confidently, as if she had just won an award.
A minor sense of relief crept into his disbelief, and then he followed along with his two suitcases.
Upon entering the foyer, he was greeted by a mix of scents, including cardboard boxes and floral accents with an earthy undertone. The lobby's modern linen design was cozy and pleasing to the eye.
On the left was the front desk, and on the right was a seating area. Behind the desk stood a somewhat older gentleman dressed in a white button-up shirt, black slacks, and framed spectacles.
Cleo chatted casually with him, her curly hair drooping over her shoulder.
Klaus moved toward the desk and walked up beside Cleo. Listening to her laughter, his face was conflicted.
"And here comes the man of the hour," she announced, gesturing towards Klaus.
His subtle glare met her gaze. She smiled, acting as if nothing were wrong.
The man smiled, watching their interaction. "Do you have your ID on you, sir?" he inquired. "The lady already informed me."
Klaus glanced at Cleo, who gave an innocent smile. "I figured I'd give you a head start."
He returned a light smile and handed over his ID to the gentleman. "Right, thanks."
The process went smoothly, and Klaus received the keys to his new place. It was cool to the touch, with a light silver color that emitted a subtle glare. A sudden warmth enveloped his being, knowing he now had a place of his own.
"I never got your name, by the way." His words were directed toward the gentleman manning the counter.
He chuckled before answering. "Pardon me, I must've forgotten." He extended his arm to Klaus. "My name's Patrick, but you can call me Mr. Porter."
Klaus took his hand and shook it firmly. "Well, you already know my name, it's Klaus," he replied.
"And your surname, may I ask?" Patrick asked.
"Silas," he smiled.
The handshake dropped, both hands retreating to their sides.
"Well, Mr. Silas, don't let me hold you. I'm sure you must be pretty exhausted from your flight," he said, nodding at his suitcases.
Cleo laughed, Klaus joining in with her. Patrick raised an eyebrow.
"That and more," she said, shaking her head.
"I'll have to inquire about that some other time," Patrick smiled. "Anyways, your apartment should be well furnished, seeing all the furniture being carried up a few weeks ago. Good to see young people nowadays planning ahead."
"Thank you for the information," Klaus replied. "And I'll be sure to tell you all about my recent encounters some other time, but like you said. I could really do with some rest."
Patrick nodded, gesturing the two towards the elevator. "Your chariot awaits."
Klaus nodded and walked toward the elevator. Cleo waved at Patrick and trailed behind Klaus.
The elevator arrived, its doors sliding open.
Both Klaus and Cleo entered the elevator with the luggage and were greeted by jazzy elevator music. Klaus, being the first to step in, looked at the rows of buttons on the panel before choosing the seventh floor.
The elevator doors closed smoothly, making the music more pronounceable as well as the faint scent of hydraulic oil and cleaning agents.
A rhythmic tapping filled the small room.
Klaus glanced over at Cleo, who was tapping on the elevator's railing, the cold metal thrumming under her nails.
It wasn't long before the doors softly hummed open, indicating their arrival.
They both stepped out of the elevator, with Cleo following behind Klaus down the left hallway.
"704, 705, 706," he paused at the next door. "Here we are. 707."
He set his suitcase aside, brought out the silver key, and slipped it into the lock before turning it. The lock clicked. He reached for the door handle and pushed the door open.
A weak draft escaped through the crack he made, carrying the faint scent of new furniture and tangy citrus. Klaus opened it further and took in the sight of his new place, smiling.
The apartment was modern, showcasing sleek minimalism and warmth. Light wood tones paired beautifully with matte black cabinetry, creating a balanced contrast.
The open-concept layout seamlessly integrated the living room, kitchen, and dining area, with no wasted space. Recessed lighting and the soft natural light from the side windows enhanced the sense of space.
A textured beige rug at the center of the living room added coziness, while the lack of decor kept the place uncluttered and refined.
Overall, the place was picture-perfect. Yeah, it was missing a few key things, but Klaus could worry about that later. Right now, the extra-soft mattress he had ordered was calling his name.
"Already looks like home," Cleo complimented. "Seems you have some taste, Silas."
Her pronunciation of his last name sounded like a sultry lullaby.
Klaus smiled, "Couldn't you tell by the outfit?"
"Eh," she replied. "Not bad, but nothing special either."
He rolled his eyes, placing the suitcases in the living room.
"Oh, right," he blurted, suddenly remembering something from earlier. "What was that about back there?"
Cleo dropped his bag onto one of the three empty stools at the island and slid into another one. "What do you mean?" she asked, glancing up with a knowing smirk.
"That little act you put up earlier," he replied. Then his eyes narrowed. "You an aspiring actor or something?"
"Well, aren't you quick on the uptake?"
Klaus paused and smiled in confusion, "Wait, I was right?"
"Yeah, nailed it right on the head," she smiled back.