Klaus would have laughed if he'd heard this human's thoughts of being old. He'd lived twenty of his lifetimes, at least, and still didn't feel old. Well...maybe sometimes he did, but it was hard to understand how quickly that time could pass.
He'd come to the park with a sketch book, and was drawing a rather boring landscape in pencil. Indiana didn't have the artistic aura that someplace like New Orleans did, but he had to work with what he was given.
When the man on the bench next to his offered him pie, he looked at him curiously.
"I'm good," he said, looking between the man and the pie, wondering why you would buy an entire pie for yourself.