His master plan of derailing completely sincere expressions of apology is almost complete. Now all he needs to do is something incredibly distracting.

There's a part of him -- a larger part than he wants to admit, actually -- that sympathizes with the fact that the man sitting across from him was apparently a slave, was so afraid of the thought of being a slave again that he'd let himself go loose-cannon, just now -- and who was also dealing with what was apparently unfamiliar sedative-hangover pain. That's the real reason he's offering what he is now, against his better judgment.

He holds his hand out to Fenris palm-up, glancing at the man's face. "Can I have one of your hands?" Out of the many, many people that Klaus has dated, of course a reflexologist made their way into the ranks at some point.