You knew it wouldn't kill me.

Niklaus Mikaelson had long ago learned the secret to eternity: enjoy it.  Klaus, for one, did not intend to loose his grasp on eternity and the '20s were proving to hold a spark he'd scarcely seen.  Not only was he operating on a fine plan that would keep ears open for Mikael, he was involved in something that was exciting.  Klaus could brandish readily a mask, flit from face to face, and it gave this era a newness that someone as old as himself had to work hard to maintain.

This dinner party promised to be another such opportunity.  Now, he was to be a gentleman of English extraction, himself, who had come to America for some freshness with his four siblings - yes, now he had but four left to him, having lost Henrik so early and having been, regrettably, forced to dagger Finn in the 1110s.  But it was only his dear Rebekah who would be at his side, tonight, glittering in all her finery.  It would be intriguing, he felt, to think of England again, since it had been so many years since last he'd been there, but he felt no qualms in pulling it off, even with natives fresh from its shores.

The Levinson family was one of the wealthiest in the nation, and he was pleased to call on them.  Afterall, the Mikaelson family fortune was no small feat, itself.  Klaus had borne unspeakable treasures back from the Holy Land during the Crusades and that had been a mere foundation.