It was late in the evening when Klaus awoke to the muffled hubbub downstairs. Tying a dressing gown around his pyjamas, he padded down the steps to see just what the fuss was. The fuss was, apparently, cake. And music. And dancing.

Klaus had nothing against cake. He quite liked it, in fact. He also liked music and dancing.

Correction- he quite liked watching other people dance. Beyond his enormity making dancing with a partner fifty shades of awkward, he just had no talent for it. He instead munched contentedly on a slice of cake, watching the party with a sort of bemused interest. For a man who was only twenty eight, he could be a bit of a fuddy duddy.