Kol is still in a crumpled heap on the kitchen floor when a voice suddenly cracks through the silence in the wake of the defeating scream that was still ringing in his own ears.

Jo Harvelle.

Great. He really needed a hunter right now.

He drops his hands from his face and lets his arms hang loosely between his knees as his head rolls back until it connects with the wall behind him with a soft thud. He chuckles softly, completely humorless because of all the times in his existence that he had no business with a bloody hunter, this topped it all. "Fuck off, lil hunter girl!" He yells, loud enough there's little doubt she couldn't hear him, that mixed up, world over, accent thicker than the last time she'd spoken with him.

A taunt may not have been the best choice, but he's suddenly caring a lot less about everything that has changed in the last year for him. Oddly closer to the place he'd started from. He didn't need rules, did he? They weren't for people like him. Just like love and happy endings weren't for people like him. This was only punishment for his contentment and complacency. The universe always made sure the balance was kept. And Mikaelsons didn't deserve nice things.