"A suitable instructor will be found." he assured her, the same quiet note of finality, of promise in his voice as he moved around the desk, and her, to take a seat at the chair behind it. Laying the loose sketches aside, he quietly flipped his sketch book open and began meticulously tearing loose the new work he'd done, adding it to the pile. "Someone who values their life enough to fear my wrath should they betray me."

He'd become too complacent in past weeks, content to skulk around the streets and quietly evade Marcel's notice rather than sweep in and take his throne in a sea of blood...perhaps Lydia's assertion wasn't too far off the mark.

Perhaps a coven ought to die tonight, and die in her name.

He reached for his bourbon, taking another sip before he drew a deep breath, then finished cleaning out his sketch book. Shifting to slip the sheaf of sketches into their drawer again, Klaus slid it closed, then locked it with a key from his pocket.

But he hadn't taken to slaughter as of late when angered...he'd somehow found his way to Lydia instead, pad and pencil in hand, and another page in his drawer in place of a body by the time it was all said and done.

"You should go back to bed." he advised, voice still soft, but louder this time, losing some of its deadly fury. Lifting his gaze to hers again, his jaw twitched at the corner as he grit his teeth with a harsh breath through his nose. "You need rest if you're to recover."