For all that Squalo realized, Klaus could have stepped on every old branch and dry leaf in his path and he likely wouldn't have noticed at all. The clapping, though. That snaps him out of it, blinking, for a moment, in the sunlight, as if slightly disoriented. He lowers his blade as he regards the man, trying to recall if he's seen him. But then, perhaps not. He's got no reason to assume he's not Varia if he's here, but he still holds himself with pride even in the face of one far more dangerous than himself.

By now his shirt is stained with sweat and his breath comes faster, but he doesn't light up like a child hoping for approval. This is the face of a boy who damn well knows he's impressive, still trying not to smirk and let it show.

"Not gonna be 'untrained' much longer."