Klaus was pleasantly surprised not to hear the other vampire unsheathe a blade or pull a gun as he turned back. Instead, he followed in silence, probably just as tense as he was. It seemed more and more apparent that the other didn't mean any immediate harm, though Klaus was still understandably hesitant to trust him. When they reached the kitchen, he noticed Mithias' gaze on the book, which he addressed as he opened the freezer. 

"It was co-written by a vampire," Klaus explained, wrinkling his nose in contempt. He pulled out a single bag of blood and then wrinkled his nose at that. He just didn't like anything about the house, it seemed. "I'm Klaus," he added. Despite his age, Klaus wasn't a terribly big name in the vampire world--he spent most of his time off the supernatural grid and definitely staying out of family business. He glanced to the other before tossing the bag into the microwave. When he found the right buttons, his attention turned to the cupboards where he fetched a single mug. Then, since all he could do was wait for the blood to warm, he focused his attention on the other guest again.

Those golden eyes were complimented by a handsome face and long hair, and Klaus' gaze flickered away for a moment. He had nothing more to say and he was still hesitant to ask questions as the wrong questions could give the stranger answers better kept secrets. So instead, his gaze flickered to the clock above the kitchen entrance; he wondered where Mira was and--he would never admit it--but he did hope Praetor walked in with her. The more Kingstons the merrier at the moment. He turned back to the microwave. He was quick to pull the bag out, dump its contents into the mug as he tensed at the scent, and set it before Mithias.