The furniture in Kaz’s office at the Slat is a far cry from that at the Club, or from the sleek way he dresses when out on the city’s streets. It speaks to a part of Kaz that lurks beneath the surface. The table is sturdy yet worn, simple wood with nothing ornate decorating it. There are some chips and scuffs from use nicked into the surface. It had been a used table even before Kaz got his hands on it, and it’s one he’s never in the years Inej has known him swapped out for another. Every fortune that Kaz makes these days he funnels back into his people and his projects. That boy who’d grown up on a dirt poor farm, that scrawny canal rat who had to fight for every morsel of food he could snatch, he doesn’t toss anything out when it’s still of use. He doesn’t care about what’s fancy or in fashion within the confines of his personal space. It’s all old and used and honestly, some of it isn’t as good as it used to be, but he still would rather make do than spend money he sees as unnecessary.
His eyes drop down for a moment to where she’s perching, right by her the small indent where Jesper had gotten restless and played with Kaz’s letter opener to the desk’s detriment a very long time ago. Every indent that happened on Kaz’s watch he remembers. His mind forgets nothing.
He won’t forget the sight of her sitting so comfortably close to him, enjoying the food he’s set out a safe distance from his work. Where words often fail him, it’s easier to simply show his feelings through gestures like ensuring there’s never an empty pantry at the Slat. He gives a little nod at her gratitude, never really knowing how to respond when people thank him. “We have a candy shop now, I figure one of the perks is seeing what they have to offer.” We as in the Dregs, Kaz took over the sweets shop along with all the rest of Rollins’ businesses. The quince candies make his heart ache a little, though while he doesn’t eat them now a part of him is glad they’re still around along with other flavors of fruit candy. After a beat he admits, “It wasn’t a life goal to own one, but here we are.” It’s rare for Kaz to admit that he hasn’t plotted and planned since birth to specifically run a sweetshop, but to Inej, it feels a little safer to acknowledge just how far he’s come.
no subject
His eyes drop down for a moment to where she’s perching, right by her the small indent where Jesper had gotten restless and played with Kaz’s letter opener to the desk’s detriment a very long time ago. Every indent that happened on Kaz’s watch he remembers. His mind forgets nothing.
He won’t forget the sight of her sitting so comfortably close to him, enjoying the food he’s set out a safe distance from his work. Where words often fail him, it’s easier to simply show his feelings through gestures like ensuring there’s never an empty pantry at the Slat. He gives a little nod at her gratitude, never really knowing how to respond when people thank him. “We have a candy shop now, I figure one of the perks is seeing what they have to offer.” We as in the Dregs, Kaz took over the sweets shop along with all the rest of Rollins’ businesses. The quince candies make his heart ache a little, though while he doesn’t eat them now a part of him is glad they’re still around along with other flavors of fruit candy. After a beat he admits, “It wasn’t a life goal to own one, but here we are.” It’s rare for Kaz to admit that he hasn’t plotted and planned since birth to specifically run a sweetshop, but to Inej, it feels a little safer to acknowledge just how far he’s come.