[ Siegfried's eyes flutter closed, just for a moment, as he allows the small indulgence of feeling Klaus' hands over his chest and abdomen. They weren't quite inside his apartment yet, but the hallway is empty, at least, and perhaps he could afford to risk the public eye a bit if it meant such doting attention.

Surprisingly, he knows what a junkie is. It isn't a term he'd use himself to describe addicts, but in that moment, he thinks he understands Klaus just a little better, and why the other man has such a flippant, poor opinion of himself.

He reaches up to let his fingers thread in the other's hair as he kisses his jawline, and though he doesn't want to interrupt wherever Klaus was going next, he pulls away briefly and braces his palm along the other's temple. ]

I've dealt with many low lives in my line of work, Klaus. And while I know very little about you, nothing about our conversation thus far has caused me to believe you are one.

Until you give me reason to, I refuse to think of you as such.

[ Sleeping around, using substances? That didn't make anyone a low life in his eyes. What Siegfried cares about is how a person treats others, whether their presence is a positive one for those around him rather than cause harm.

And right now? Klaus' presence is warm, positive, and inviting. He leans forward and kisses him, gentle but curious, his free hand reaching behind himself to push his apartment door open. Without breaking their kiss, he guides them into the interior. ]