Hard to criticize yourself when you've gone through the same thing, huh? Klaus bites down on his cheek, spares a glance over his shoulder, ponders the semi-lecture that's going through his head a few long seconds then immediately scraps the idea. All their other siblings will surely be coming by to give him a talking to; the last person he needs it from is someone he's putting his trust in to not tearing him a new one. "It isn't what you need right now, so." He gestures offhandedly, lowers the arm afterward, lets his fingers pat the younger's knee through his blanket.

His eyebrows arch the minute Klaus asks if they're going to hold him for psych evaluation. "Oh, no. No, no, no. I told them it was an accident since—" he stops, gives his twin a look then furrows his brow and averts his gaze. "—that's what it was, of course? You wouldn't have... done it deliberately." He's sounding a bit unsure only because he hadn't been there, but he's trusting him to tell the truth and if he needs help, they'll get it-- together.

Then his entire body decides to go rigid at the second inquiry. He clutches the blanket tight, clenches his arm around the teen and grits his teeth, yet without missing a beat, "Twice," comes out in a hiss, something pain-tainted as he continues, "In my mid-twenties, I went to this party and tried heroin for the first time? It was ah-maaazing." Another ragged breath because damn, he didn't expect it to be this difficult to talk about. "The second time wasn't, though. Then my second OD was... er. Right before I found out about dear ol' Dad dying? I'd just gotten out of rehab." Which should be enough of an explanation, honestly, although if his other self wants to know more, he won't sugar-coat anything.