Asking the right questions was exactly what Cain was waiting for. It wouldn't do to just blurt out who or what he was to anyone who brought up something in relation; he wasn't stupid, just operating without the need for secrecy. Besides, not a lot of people really took well to the immortality thing no matter how cool they insist it would be. That was the balancing act that Cain ended up in, although it wasn't as precarious or tiring as all that.

"Last time I'd been there was with my wife for our anniversary," he said, thoughtfully. That still put it at almost forty years ago but placed it in a reasonable, relative timeframe. Recently for Cain, and likely to imply the same for Klaus. "Still as beautiful as it ever was, though."

Just because it wasn't the same didn't make it any less precious. That was something that a lot of people had a hard time understanding, he'd found. Rome was his, and he would love it just as much as he did when at its height as he does now and will in the future no matter how much it aged or rejuvenated. A father's love, in a way.