It's quiet relief at Klaus, at his following him without a word of opposition.

In that, at least.

"Yeah. Didn't think it could get that much weirder," he shakes his head, not unlike an old man reminiscing about times past.

Five doesn't chance to spare a look at Klaus when the other asks that. "Just — don't, okay?"

"There's no real way of getting through, and it just turns you around the further you walk in." It isn't an absolute lie, but it wasn't the reason why he warns him. It does do that, after a certain point of no return. The fear constricts your lungs, a sense of trespassing, of venturing too far until your legs force you to run no matter what you may have wanted upon first entering here. It forces you back and the path Five walked before? He couldn't find.

It didn't mean it wasn't there. And that meant Five couldn't risk a chance of Klaus seeing them. Klaus, who spoke to the dead, communed and conjured them and suffered for it all. Five was poor at sentiment, but he wasn't stupid. "This place has a tendency to really mess with people."

He pauses, and tosses his brother a look. "And powers."