Klaus had come into the kitchen to fix himself a pot of coffee - he had a long night of paperwork ahead of him and prospects of that seemed far less bleak with a comforting mug of hot coffee and a scone or two.

The coppery smell of blood stung his nose the moment he opened the door, and he dropped the mug, the piece of gimcrackery shattering loudly.

He knew what he was seeing, but he couldn't entirely process it - that Valdis was giving the blood to Devin was inconsequential. All he could focus on was that there was a vampire - a Blood Breed, here.

There was no angry snarl like one might expect from someone acting on pure instinct. Every muscle in his body tensed and Klaus lunged forward, his sleeve tearing as the the mechanism drew out his knuckledusters. There was nothing in Klaus's eyes except old fear and bitter cold fury.

His blood welled up at the center jewel of the dusters, forming into a sharp, conical spearhead as he drew his fist back. He wasn't going for Devin's head - his aim was fixed right on his heart.