"Well don't you look lovely," Klaus told her as she walked over to him, Sheridan rolling her eyes in response.
"Well if I die while I'm with you which I probably have a 70% chance of, I may as well go out looking good," She replied, picking at her nails as he took her arm and began to walk with her.
He chuckled as he took her arm and began to walk with her, his tone one of amusement which he also found appealing.
"Oh please," he replied in a tone of jest, "You have better chances than that. Not to mention, you're with me here, so no one can bother us."
"You can bother me," She remarked, "But I knew if I didn't come with you today you'd bother me even more."
His smile widened as he heard her remark, and she was right, he would have become quite insistent and annoying had she not accepted this invitation.
"So that's the only reason you came with me? To stop me from bothering you if you didn't?" he asked, and his tone was one of amusement, teasing her.
"I'm not exactly your biggest supporter," Sheridan commented, "You have made some questionable decisions."
"Ah, you have made plenty of questionable decisions too," he replied with a smile, "and I have to admit that being a supporter of mine is not an easy feat either," he added playfully, knowing that she probably wouldn't agree but still enjoying this banter they were having.
With his hand moving to the small of her back, he leads her into a clearing, a canvas and two stools set up in the centre. Sheridan looked at the scene, then back to Klaus questioningly.
Sensing this he answered, "I figured such beauty should be documented and seeing as your birthday is coming up I figured this could be your present from me."
"I didn't know you could paint." She replied with a shrug.
"You do know I change my hair colour nearly every month, you'll probably not even remember who you painted," She commented, amused by his tactic of flattery.
"Well, I suppose every time you do I will receive the pleasure of painting you yet again," He commented, almost as if he was trying to diminish her distrust with flattery.
"I know you also paint Sheridan." He told her, she was surprised that he would even know was it was not a talent she often displayed, only those close really knew about her paintings. The woman had only taken it up as a brief hobby, finding it as a release to be able to sit in her own garden and paint her well-cared-for shrubbery and plants.
"I dabble, I just really paint what I plant in my garden." She told him, almost as if she was embarrassed. Of course, with the man's age, he would have had hundreds of years of experience that would easily put her to shame.
"Today shall be a learning curve for the both of us then." He replied genuinely wanted to spend time with the woman as she had slowly moved up in the list of people in this town he could relatively sound and her looks certainly helped. Grabbing her arm gently he leads her over to the stool, handing her a glass of champagne.
"Relax for now." He demanded her, to which she shrugged and moved the champagne bottle closer to where she sat, maybe if she was a bit tipsy it'd loosen her nerves.
As Sheridan sat down, he was surprised that this little tactic actually worked. The smile on her face was something he saw very rarely but it was endearing nevertheless and he was glad it was there for at least a moment.
"I like seeing you smile, Sheridan," he told her as he walked around her and took a seat behind her on the stool, "And I can only hope to see it more often."
"Who are you trying to butter up?" Sheridan raised a brow at him while attempting to keep back a smile at his words.
"You are too difficult to convince," he replied in a teasing tone, "So I have to resort to some flattery at times and hope it works."
He paused for a few moments, his expression changing to a more serious tone.
"But I am being honest, I like that I have that effect on you," he added, his tone remaining serious now, "so let me ask you something, Sheridan."
"Ask away," she said, not feeling like resisting now, not after he had managed to flatter her into relaxing a little, and she was slightly tipsy too, which made it easier.
"You didn't trust me enough to come here with me yesterday," he began, "so I want to know something" he paused to take a sip from his champagne glass.
"Is that because you still carry some type of animosity towards me?" he asked, and the tone of his voice was still serious.
"Define animosity," Sheridan took another sip of her drink.
"Let us define animosity as not liking or holding negative feelings towards someone," he replied in a straightforward manner, "Now answer my question, Sheridan."
"Honestly," She began, "Yes."
He was shocked she was honest about it. "And your reasoning?" he asked, his tone still serious, knowing that it wasn't an easy question to answer.
"You're very self-serving," Sheridan told him, "I just don't agree with some of your actions."
"And is that what has kept you from trusting me?" he asked, wanting her to get to the heart of the issue and to get a good honest answer out of her. "I can be arrogant, yes, but I wouldn't say I'm completely self-serving."
"You spent 1000 years to break a curse that only affected you," She crossed her legs, "That's what I'd call self-serving."
This was a fair point. Sheridan was correct that he had been extremely self-serving for spending a thousand years trying to break a curse that only affected him.
However, he wasn't going to admit that to her so easily.
"Well, I'd define that as being ambitious," he replied, wanting to justify his actions in a different manner. "And it just happens that my ambitions benefit me more than anyone else."
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꧁★꧂
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Sheridan sat still for a while as she watched him paint, and she was surprised at how talented he actually was. She couldn't help but wonder what other talents she might not know about the man in front of her.
She could also see the concentration on his face as he worked, and she couldn't help but find it somewhat admirable. The painting was nothing short of a masterpiece, Sheridan looked angelic. Hair perfectly shining in the light, and her plump and glossed lips reflected in the sunshine. Curves captured perfectly, but the part that stood out the most was her eyes. Where the sun had hit her face and her eyes were coloured a vibrant green. The green you would find if you wandered into a forest while the sun cascaded down onto the trees' leaves. Where the sun didn't hit the eyes the colour melted out into a mossy green. Hints of white are a reflection of the beaming sun in her pupils. It was perfect, in his eyes from an artist and biased standpoint.
"What's with your sudden interest in me?" Sheridan asked him, breaking the silence, finally taking her eyes off of the view to look at him.
Klaus' concentration was momentarily fractured when he heard the question. It was a bit of a surprise that she finally broke the silence.
"You really wonder what my interest in you is?" he asked, not looking from the painting, "I'm attracted to you," he replied confidently in a tone that wasn't flirtatious but simply a serious one.
"Why?"
This was a loaded question and one that he had to tread carefully with. Her eyes looked at him in a way that said she was trying to see through him, and it seemed like she was going to keep that same line of questioning if he didn't give sufficient answers.
So he took a deep breath and tried his best to answer the question honestly.
"If I'm being honest? You fascinate me."
"Hm, I've never heard that one before," Sheridan nodded, this was a new one to her and she definitely never would have expected words like that to come out of his mouth.
He could tell from her reply that she wasn't completely impressed by the answer, she probably expected something more.
"But would you believe me if I told you I want to know everything there is to know about you?" he added, not waiting for a reply, "Because I find a woman who hides her emotions so well is extremely intriguing."
"You don't know me well enough to make judgments like that," Sheridan replied, "To whether I hide my emotions or not."
His gaze was still on the painting as he answered, "I can see through you." he replied with a hint of amusement, "You try not to display what you really feel, except if it's disdain, annoyance, sarcasm perhaps?" he paused for a few moments, "Yet I can always read that one emotion in your eyes, discontent."
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꧁★꧂
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As he stood before the large canvas, his eyes were immediately drawn to the stunning portrayal of a woman's serene visage. His impeccable skill was evident in every brushstroke, which expertly captured the delicate curves of her face and the gentle slope of her shoulders. The portrait was a true masterpiece, with intricate details that brought the woman to life on the canvas. He took a step back to take in the artwork as a whole. The subtle play of light and shadow, the subtle nuances of colour and texture, all combined to create a truly mesmerizing piece of art, one depicting Sheridan herself. A smirk slowly spread across his face as he gazed at the portrait, appreciating his own skill and talent helping him create such a breathtaking work of art.
His gaze drifted over to Sheridan as she continued to look intently at the painting, her arms resting upon the canvas. As if sensing his attention was on her, she spoke up, breaking the silence between them.
"Well, Sheridan why don't you give me your well-valued opinion?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper as he teased her. She was clearly proud of how it had turned out, but there was still some tension between the two, a constant reminder of her dislike for him and his intentions.
"It's beautiful," Sheridan told him honestly, admiring the painting and its almost uncanny resemblance to her.
"I had a beautiful muse," he replied with a confident smile. "So I could hardly imagine the painting to turn out badly." His tone was almost flirtatious, and he knew that if she was anyone else, he would have been flirting with her by now.
"You're trying to flatter me," She took a drink from her glass, "And men like you always want something in return."
That caught him by surprise, and his smirk widened at her astute observation. "So, tell me, Sheridan," he began, "if I am as self-serving as you say, what is it that I want?" His tone was a mixture of curiosity and amusement, eager to hear her thoughts.
"If someone doesn't pander to you, you strive for them to admire you," She let out a bitter chuckle, "I've known too many men like you."
He chuckled in return, her words were so harsh yet they were also very attractive to him. "Ah and I've known many women like you," he replied, "Those with so much bitterness inside of them that they push away anyone who could actually make them happy."
"You read people well," Sheridan grinned, "But there is one thing."
He raised an eyebrow at her, curious about what she was about to say. "And what is that?" he asked, waiting for her response, already knowing it wasn't going to be a compliment by the look on her face.
"You think you see yourself in me," She set the glass down on the glass, "And the thing is we're nothing alike."
His expression turned from one of anticipation to one of almost disappointment. His eyes looked into hers, searching for any sign that he might still be right, but all he mustered was a bitter cold stare.
"I'm nothing like you," She repeated, this time sounding like she was trying to convince herself.
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Damon or Klaus?