“Hello, Inej.” How he can always sense her presence is a question Kaz has teasingly dodged answering over the years. So much of how Inej moves is like magic to him, he enjoys being able to show her a trick or two in return. The air shifts upon her entrance into his window, weight gathered by her presence that tells him he’s no longer alone. He’s seated behind his desk, head bent over papers he’s studying, his right foot propped up on a small stool beside his chair. There’s a coffee mug settled near him, what little is left in it cold by now.

“I’m hardly squirming. I’m studying.” At that his gaze flicks upwards towards where she’s perched upon his windowsill. It’s become synonymous for him, her and that place, so much so that he moved his office downstairs into Haskell’s old one. It’s also less walking up and down the stairs during the day, that’s his practical excuse. What he hasn't said is the fact that he keeps getting distracted looking towards that window ledge when he’s up here, missing that she isn’t there when she’s at sea.

He’s kept his old desk in his bedroom so he could still work at it throughout the night when sleep eludes him. “The crows will be glad you’re back so they can con you out of birdseed.” Nevermind that he’s taken it upon himself to feed her birds in her absence.