Five doesn't ask Klaus if he's okay. Can't find it in him to ask such a bullshit question and his stomach rolls, hand landing on his brother's shoulder, and not shrugging the touch away.

"What place?" He asks stiffly. "What the hell are you on about?"

He hasn't spoken to anyone else who has returned - couldn't bring himself to actually give a shit. It was terrible to admit, but he knew it to be true. A sort of pragmatic callousness that comes with years of compartmentalizing and until he saw Klaus, he was fine with continuing to do so.

Of course, that part of coping was still there - breaking things into bite sized pieces and shoving them so far away into the corner of his mind until he would stop focusing on the parts that ached.

It worked less than he'd like in the face of Klaus' existence. And while his face twists with confusion, concern, it's in microexpressions. Suggestions of fractures because he can't crack. Not now, because it's not important. Never has been.

"Look, I'll get you out of here, okay?" in this case, he means the graveyard. He doesn't like it either, but he knows it bothers Klaus more. "Then we can talk. Alright?"