Luther is clutching his own drink like a lifeline, and doesn't look miserable but also doesn't exactly look like he's having fun -- it's a far, far cry from the last time they were in a club together, since Luther is back to his straightlaced and desperately sober and socially anxious self. But at the sudden arrival of Klaus' freewheeling energy, he unclenches and loosens somewhat. It's at least a familiar face, someone he knows, someone he can better-predict.

(And the sight of him still tickles some distant, hazy memory: Klaus trying to get to him on a dance floor. Shouting to be heard. Bodies, moving.)

He blinks away the memory. "It's... not exactly what I expected," he half-shouts back, head craned towards his brother's. "The moon, I mean. I didn't think there'd be dancing up here."