Klaus let out a long suffering sigh. "His ghost." Of course he knew that Ben was dead, but it had taken his siblings a long-ass to believe his claims that Ben was actually around. All those extra cups of coffee, glasses of soda, portions of waffles and eggs [...] they'd been for Ben, and [...] it was just kind of disheartening to see that they still hadn't quite caught on yet? "Why isn't he here?" Were they in a time before Ben had existed, and gone poof because he didn't exist yet? Or had he just gone poof because their other siblings had, but that still made no sense. During his highs and lows, Ben had always been right there. He and Ben were attached at the hip.
But even if it had turned into a fuck up, their little -or oldest brother stuck in a kid's body, whatever- had meant well, which was just about the only straw he could grasp at right now. In a bid to calm the fuck down, he drew in a deeper breath than his scarred lungs could manage, and coughed as a result. "Whyyyyy are we surrounded by buildings that look like." He blanked. European? English? German? "What?" And he gestured at the square, accidentally brushing against Diego's shoulder as he stepped out of the alley.
"Christ on a cracker. Look at der mist. I am a city boy," he said indignantly. "This is beyond fakakta."