Tears are so unfamiliar that it sends another jolt of trepidation through Luther, caught off-guard and out of his element and unsure what to do with his hands -- what do you do with this? Should he pat Klaus' back, awkwardly? Stroke his hair? (Mom would probably have some programming for this.) Do you just give them some space, step away and let them deal with it by themselves? (Luther always wants space when it's him crumbling. Needs to be left alone, to wrestle with it in his own time and with no watching eyes.)

But Klaus is, above all things, needy, and the way he cottons even closer is probably a sign that he wants the company. Hands seizing on Luther's shirt to be as close as possible, an intimacy that he's not used to.

But he does pat Klaus' shoulder, and then just rests his hand there, a comforting weight against his back as he cries. Just lets it out.

And he's at loose ends and still not sure what to do -- (the secret, Number One, is that there is no solution to this, no easy fix); until the thought eventually comes to him. "I can sleep on the floor tonight," he offers. "If you need some company that isn't, uh. That banshee in the closet."