Klaus' eyes narrowed as he noticed the way Tabora kept her hands on her head. Didn't Kat think there was something wrong with that? What normal person would do that? It was an obvious threat to Klaus, and he didn't like it. But why wasn't Kat shying away, acting guilty? Was she blind? Was she stupid? Did she just feel like she could rip Matt's heart out like that and stomp all over it? Rub salt in that fresh wound? She really was a bitch, wasn't she? Only... It just didn't make sense. She didn't even look at him. Magic. It had to be magic.
"What did you do to her..." Klaus demanded, adding through gritted teeth, "'lover'?" He grabbed for the back of his shirt only to realize his silver knife wasn't there. His back-up wasn't tied to his ankle. He let his head fall back as he rolled his eyes at himself as he mouthed "Why?" to the universe. He should have thought, should have armed up in preparation when he'd realized who Kat was with--not stormed out willy nilly on emotion. It may be a couple days sooner than when he usually kept silver on him, but he should have armed up. It was Tabora.
Still, Klaus had to keep his head in the game. Most of her obvious pressure points were accessible from the front or through only obvious threatening stances from behind. Her temples he'd have to punch, and by then, Kat's neck would be gone. He could wrap an arm around her neck, apply pressure, but again, Kat's neck? Gone-zo. He could grab her beneath the jaw, press up. But again, goner. Pressure on the TMJ? Doubtful Kat would still be alive to tell the tale. Elbows, love handles, fingers? Why had he left his one good threat behind at his flat?
"I don't care what beef you have with Matt or with me, Tabby. Let her go. We'll take this outside, but let her go."