[ To say that he's woken up in stranger, more obscure places before is not an understatement. In fact, he'd wager that waking up, kept in a chained cage with the occasional scream and moan of the disfigured undead around him? Not so bad. ]

You're a real peach, you know. [ He laughs, sing song and low in his throat as he tips his head back against the bars. The comment is directed at one of the necromancers who mostly ignores him and allows one of the undead to give an angry shove at the cage. ] The sedatives really take the edge off, and the chains, darling, all you had to do was ask. No respect at all.

[ Another push, another swing and Klaus wonders if he'll throw up whatever is left of his stomach. Last week's (read: months and months) alcohol is doing its number on him and though the sedatives give him a warm, pleasant sort of high, it does nothing for the shakes and the sweats.

It does nothing for the god awful things in the cage with them. He becomes more and more unsettled by their wails, and no matter how tightly he closes his eyes in between taunts, they don't Stop. Images drift in and out of his head, and he groans, turning to look at the next unsuspecting victim. At least he can talk over the noise. ]

They go through all this trouble to play kinky in zombie land and they don't even give us the good stuff. I mean we've got Belinda over there with the missing jaw, and I don't know what is going on with John and Suzie over there but they should really get that looked at. Had a case myself once, the itching was terrible.

[ The moment the necromancer drops the keys, Klaus scrambles. There's no calling the troops, no organizing his fellow cage-mates, there's just the adrenaline of fear and panic that has him fumbling his way out. He barely recalls the rope, the mist, the panic. The wails of the undead make his skin crawl, and for a foolish moment he raises his hands, blinks his eyes open and shut a few times, and sucks in a deep breath. Maybe, maybe, he can rally a different kind of troop.

No answer. He stares at his hands, dumbfounded, and tries again, before he's shoved by another newcomer. ]

Shit, shit, shit.

[ Panic claws its way up his throat. Too many days without something to numb out the noise and suddenly the chaos makes his skin crawl. One guard swings at a cage dweller and he swings back, flooring the guard and immediately having to dodge the swipe of one of the undead. ]

Sheesh, don't you think you're coming on a little strong? [ He kicks one square in the chest as it lunges again, and he turns to run the moment he hears doors open, the moment there's a way out. He springs for it, and when he hears a very human wail behind him (one of the undead ripping a cage deweller apart) he all but slams into someone else round the bend and falls, scrambling to get back to his feet amid thundering escapees around him. He raises his hands up over his ears when another scream echoes out, shrill and agonized, and he realizes the sedatives are slowly beginning to wear off. He's not really looking at the other person as he pushes up to his knees, his feet. ]

Fuck. Love to stay and chat but we have to go.