Pray For The Wicked : Kol Mikaelson [2]

188: When The Levee Breaks

a/n: 😉 have fun with this one.
I cut nearly 3000 words to make it justified as one chapter lmao - Bea x

MJ managed to sleep at Marcel's without any dream manipulation...no explosions when she woke up either. She set an alarm, enough time for a nice walk back to The Mikaelson Compound for breakfast, and, for the first time, it actually felt like she'd made some progress. She had no idea if her dad would contact her again, but she'd spoken to him.

She'd gotten to hug him again.

She could take a step forward, no longer needing to wonder 'What If?'

The ball was in his court.

MJ could focus on the rest of her life until he decided what to do about that.

There was a catering team moving about, pastries across the room, Kol munching away, Klaus sitting at the head of the table.

"Mira," He greeted, lifting up a mimosa, "You vanished."

"Personal moment."

Kol raised an eyebrow but didn't out her, letting MJ sit down next to Klaus, taking a drink he'd pushed her way, sipping, then almost spitting it out.

It didn't taste right.

"This is orange juice!"

The hybrid sniggered at her reaction.

MJ had been expecting alcohol and then tasted something that wasn't that, hence the slight over-reaction. Most mornings at The Compound had her questioning her sense of taste since she'd returned, drinks often tasting slightly not right – but she was still recalibrating from her Prison World 'death,' so she hadn't thought to mention it.

It was strange how getting used to taste again could mess with your head. Surrounding her with morning cocktails but only giving juice felt unfair.

Klaus was still grinning.

"Dude!"

"You're underage."

"You used to deliberately give me alcohol at events."

"And now I'm a parent," Klaus reasoned falsely, "I'm aware of the appropriate behaviour young girls should have!"

"Ha-Ha."

"Encouraging the bad leads them into the arms of morally questionable men," He dismissed, "Ones that are far too old for them."

"Ha-ha."

"We wouldn't want that now, would we?"

"If I dump my drink on an undead werewolf's head," Kol wondered aloud, "Is that considered animal abuse?"

Before anything could happen, Elijah joined them.

He took a seat, a newspaper in front of his eyes to block Klaus's face.

"Is something the matter, brother?" He gloated, "Can I fix you a drink, perhaps?"

"Strangely enough, I'm not in a mimosa mood."

"Fantastic! More for me."

MJ offered him her orange juice.

Elijah took it carefully, sniffed, eyes jumping from it, to Klaus, then Kol, before motioning for her to keep it, determined to be stubborn.

"Let's discuss strategy, Niklaus?" He put the newspaper down, "Just wondering if you actually have one."

MJ hid her laugh in her drink, less revolting with each sip.

"We can begin with Mikael's ashes – given that they are vital to Dahlia's defeat, would you care to tell me where they disappeared to?"

"Elijah," Klaus put his own drink down, "I have compelled the city's finest pastry chef for your own personal edification, and yet, you ignore my efforts in favour of needless concerns."