Investigation: Seven/Klaus
Seven hadn’t looked up when he’d heard the timbre of a voice approaching up the length of the driveway, but he did reach out to tap his index finger against the screen of his phone where it sat beside him. A few jabs and he’d pulled up the app for his security system, opening the heavy metal gate with the faint hum of the motorized mechanism without bothering to wait for the guy - because it was definitely a man’s voice that he heard - to buzz in at the speaker. He sort of just assumed that the voice belonged to Klaus, since he wasn’t exactly expecting anyone else and the closest neighbours on the lake were driving distance, not strolling distance. Rich people up this way didn't stroll by for unexpected visits, anyway.
So he hadn’t chosen to look up, but he did reach down to grab the bottle’s neck in one hand and then he was sort of forced to lift his gaze to the driveway this side of the gate as he straightened his spine and raise his head enough to take another generous swallow of the liquor. Seven’s eyes narrowed just a bit as he felt the astringent taste of juniper burn on the way down and he surveyed the figure who approached his spot on the wide front porch. The coat was… a choice, but more concerning to Seven was the fact that the guy had come alone but had also definitely been talking to someone else before the hail. Which, given the nature of the visit, did bode well for Seven’s desperate hope that the haunting shit was just that, of the ‘bull’ variety.
The butt of the bottle rested on Seven’s knee as he reached out and extended his own hand for a brief shake, palm and fingers roughly calloused in the other’s grasp. “Seven,” he said, his voice low gravel and quietly ragged before he cleared his throat. He hauled himself to his feet, and even managed not to stagger. It would take a lot more to get him there. Distantly he supposed this meeting would be an interlude, and had every intention of getting to the point of staggering afterward, whatever the outcome. Even if it turned out not to be Liam’s spirit that lingered in his house, that didn’t change the fact that he was -- if he wasn’t this dead guy, he was still that somewhere else. Or nowhere else. Whatever.
With a slight tilt of his head as if trying to get his thoughts to even out into something easier, smoother, Seven turned and led the way into the house through the heavy front door. At the sound of Klaus’ voice the dogs had begun to bark around back, but with the door closed between the two men and the outside, some of the sound was cut down. “It’s, uh, mostly been happening upstairs. This way,” he glanced over his shoulder once to see if the guy followed, then started up the main staircase to the second floor and down the hall to the master bedroom. On the way he reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out an unsealed envelope that held the cash. Ten crisp hundreds out of the safe. He turned on a bare heel and held it out towards Klaus as they stepped into Seven’s bedroom. “Feel free to count that, obviously.”