somewhere around noon
What time was it? He figured it had to be around noontime. His captors (or hosts, as they called themselves) were preparing food, and he was feeling a little hungry, yet he was restless. There was something about not having the sun in your life that made you feel that way, he supposed. He looked to the female in the room from his spot at the table where he sat (primarily because the small living area feet away was occupied) and sighed, lacing his fingers and used the antagonizing force to pop first one set of knuckles then the other. When not much happened, he glanced at the woman again. "I'm stepping outside," he said as he stood. "I need to move. Promise I'll stay in sight."
That was the one thing about this place. Someone was always with him, and when they weren't, they were feet away within sight. One little eight-year-old werewolf girl had made herself his shadow over the past three days. No offense to her, but he just wanted to move without having a question or random statement thrown out there. He didn't have a gym here that he knew of, which meant he hadn't been able to work out how he was used to for as long as he was used to with the equipment he was used to. Yeah, he may have taken walks and been allowed to see a couple places so far, but currently, he had little interest in exploring. All he was focused on was how to get home or how soon they would let him go, if he wasn't a prisoner.
Klaus sighed as he sat down on the makeshift porch step then stood almost just as fast. Restless. Without purpose. At least topside, he'd been in charge of the case with Cedric. Might have gone sideways and landed him down here, but at least he'd gotten information out of the werewolf. At least topside, he'd helped plan missions that had succeeded. At least topside, he had a job to go to and people to be around. Like Kit Kat. She might not like him...yet, so far as he could tell, but they'd made some headway. And then Matt. He'd just come back from the military and he'd gotten him on a bit ago. Or Cole. Good ol' Cole.
Klaus was pacing when he became self-aware enough to feel that floaty feeling of walking and grounded himself enough to realize what he was doing. He stopped and walked over to a nearby building where he punched it. No damage except to his fist. It hurt, but it wasn't broken. He shook off the pain and then leaned against the building, bringing a leg up and crossing his arms as he pouted. No, Klaus was not above pouting. At least not at the moment. Typically, he only ever did such a thing jokingly or to flirt. Now, he was full-on broody pouting. He hated feeling trapped. Lack of space had nothing to do with it.
Momentarily, Klaus wondered what they would do if he wandered off on his own, but then the warnings came back and his common sense that the best strategy for now was to give into his captors and follow their wishes. If that didn't work, then at least he'd have gained enough trust that his disappearance for a few minutes wouldn't be anything troublesome and he'd be able to get a lead on trying to run. Though he had no idea where. Maybe he'd have Maisie take him about later. He needed to find a means of exit of some sort.