A lifetime spent in the Connecticut colonies gave Magnus narrow opinions about how men should dress and act. If Magnus saw this guy on the street, he’d make fun of him. The stranger wore a plain knee-length black wool coat with silver threaded embroidery down its open center front. The suit’s style was something an old man might wear. The stranger’s loose blond waves were clipped short around his ears, which was the opposite of fashion. His skin was a profound pasty white color. The stranger’s face was colored with a hangover. He wore a black leather eyepatch and thigh-high black cavalry boots, “Let me start by saying that your escape attempt was my favorite piece of performance art in a long time.”

Magnus sipped his drink with the pettiness of a failed escape attempt, “I’m sorry, who are you again?”

“I’m Klaus. I kidnapped you.”

Magnus held up his fork, “Where do I recognize you from?”

“We don’t know each other,” Klaus brushed his hair over his eyepatch.

“Where’s your accent from?” Magnus asked. 

“Pardon?” 

“You don’t have to tell me, I’ve got an ear for these things,” said Magnus.

“Where do you think I’m from?” Klaus smiled. “I’ll give you three guesses, if you guess correctly I’ll let you go.”

“Wait, seriously?”

Klaus straightened his sleeve ruffles, “Seriously.”

Magnus put his fork down, “Okay. Bet!”

Klaus pompously stared at Magnus. Magnus pressed his lips together, “Fairfield.”

“No. That’s one,” said Klaus. 

“Ridgefield.”

“No. Wait, are you only going to guess places in Connecticut?”

“New Haven!”

“New Haven? Really?”

“That’s my best guess,” Magnus sipped his drink. 

“Are you kidding?” asked Klaus.

“Did I get it?” asked Magnus. 

“No! Not even close.”

“Aw, man.”

“I’m from Saxony,” said Klaus. 

“Oh, yeah!” Magnus snapped. “I know where that is… that’s down by…”

“It’s in Europe,” Klaus interrupted. “Seriously, you could have said ‘Europe’ and I would have given it to you.”

“You know, I almost said that?” Magnus smiled. “So how does this work? This is my first time being kidnapped.”

“Kidnapped,” Klaus tasted the word but didn’t like it. “You’ll be a guest for a week, at least. Maybe two. I came down here to extend an invitation for dinner this evening. Since you’re trying to get out of your rooms.”

“Um, I have to laugh! Hell, no!” shouted Magnus.

“Excuse me?” asked Klaus.

“Sorry to be rude,” said Magnus. “But you literally kidnapped me. That’s so messed up!”

“I think I’ve been accommodating,” Klaus gestured to the luxury suite, the fruit bowl, and the cocktail Magnus sipped. “I’d appreciate manners befitting a gentleman of your status.”

“Yeah, right!” said Magnus. “Who do you think you are?”

“I’m your kidnapper! If you want to keep getting food, you’ll do what I want.” Klaus stepped into Magnus’ personal space.

“You gonna fight me in heels?” asked Magnus. 

Klaus frowned, “They’re boots!”

“Yeah, with heels on them.” 

“Are you trying to start a fight? Because you will lose,” said Klaus. 

Magnus moved the fruit slice out of the way so he could sip his drink, “Don’t underestimate me.”

“Perhaps you’re confused about the dynamic here,” said Klaus. “Maybe a few days without a butler would help you understand how pathetic you are.”

“Pathetic?” Magnus’ robe swung open when he gesticulated ‘pathetic.’ He scrambled to cover himself. “I’m not a kidnapper!”

“That’s right, you’re not!” Klaus shouted. “You are a rude, entitled child who cries himself to sleep every night! See you later this evening. I’m not sending any more dinners to this room.” 

Magnus dug deep for a good comeback. Klaus slammed the door hard enough to shake the oil paintings on the wall. Magnus was back where he started minus one pair of shoes, which he’d just finished breaking in.