"I know," he said, like it was obvious, like it was the most simple statement in the world. Of course he was part of Klaus. The same as Klaus was part of him. There was no line that separated one from the other, not the way there used to be when they were kids. It'd blurred years and years ago now and it felt like a very silly thing indeed to back up any and try to find a way to find the line, let alone try and put it back into place anymore.
They'd come a long way, though, from attempted patty cake. But there was something still reminiscent about it even here and now. Maybe it was that feeling of purposeful desperation. Like there was something he wanted, a goal he was trying to reach, and the only way they'd get there was by working together.
"I wouldn't know where to start," he said, trailing his fingers up to trace the thin line of Klaus' wrist. It wasn't strictly true, not really. He'd seen more than enough to know where to start, but it was like -- he didn't know. Not exactly. It'd been like looking at pictures of things he wasn't interested in. He'd been too young to care when he'd been alive, had missed out on that really awkward young adult phase of experimenting. Now he just wondered if he was being stupid. Anything was too much of a range to start with.
Still. He leaned in closer yet. "Show me." It wasn't quite a question.