The sounds of the season carry upwards from down the steps and out the window. Songs and laughter, along with shouts and scuffles. Just as the Barrel is never truly quiet, neither is it ever without its violence. Still, there's a shift even in these dark and narrow streets this time of year. An excitement and anticipation for the coming spring, of new chances and a life worth waging. A gambler's hope and a businessman's exploitation. The very makings and marks of Ketterdam.
The sweets shop has run various holiday sales and promotions, and the club has been decked out in finery and running specials with the menu, games, and performances. The new club is set to open as well in that buzzing time between winter's eve and the coming new year. Between that, overseeing his tenant buildings, some overseas ventures, and Dregs business, Kaz is as usual a blend of exhausted and fired up, taking every new success and opportunity as a never-ending climb towards an ultimate goal he's yet to find. Ever since Rollins he hasn't discovered quite the same purpose, but that hasn't stopped him from barreling forwards, anyway. To stand still, to stagnate, is never an option.
All of the workers at the Crow Club contributed to the night's successful event. From concept development to recruiting to vetting to decorating, it took a full crew. Kaz knows he didn't do it by himself, and that Genya certainly played a part in it. She's fit in well on the crew. In Ketterdam. With him.
Some of the proceeds from the night would go towards rebuilding the city, a good press move. Others would provide bonuses for the crew. The rest is dedicated to his off hours business ventures, such as buying out the indentured service contracts in the city, stocking supplies, and planning for more involved heists. His practical mind is already slicing up the funds for how they'll be allocated.
The rest of the Dregs are now downstairs, continuing the party long after it's ended. Kaz has had enough socializing, though. His skin feels thin from all of it, and he's retreated up the steps to his attic office at the Slat. His leg is aching from standing too long, his feet are tired, and his limp is a little more pronounced than usual. A testament to the weather and how hectic life has been. He grabs the whiskey and Genya's drink of choice, two glasses, and sets them on the desk before flopping down into his chair. His right leg is lifted onto the stool that's by his desk and he leans forward to pull off his boots. "One would think at least some of them would have laryngitis by now," he grumps about the festive music he can hear ringing up from below.
Kaz hasn't celebrated holidays since he was nine years old. He doesn't stop his crew from doing it though, even if he grumbles about it. The most he does is provide some gifts from those chosen few he finds deserving of them, though they're often practical in nature and without his name attached.
@eyarazrushost
The sweets shop has run various holiday sales and promotions, and the club has been decked out in finery and running specials with the menu, games, and performances. The new club is set to open as well in that buzzing time between winter's eve and the coming new year. Between that, overseeing his tenant buildings, some overseas ventures, and Dregs business, Kaz is as usual a blend of exhausted and fired up, taking every new success and opportunity as a never-ending climb towards an ultimate goal he's yet to find. Ever since Rollins he hasn't discovered quite the same purpose, but that hasn't stopped him from barreling forwards, anyway. To stand still, to stagnate, is never an option.
All of the workers at the Crow Club contributed to the night's successful event. From concept development to recruiting to vetting to decorating, it took a full crew. Kaz knows he didn't do it by himself, and that Genya certainly played a part in it. She's fit in well on the crew. In Ketterdam. With him.
Some of the proceeds from the night would go towards rebuilding the city, a good press move. Others would provide bonuses for the crew. The rest is dedicated to his off hours business ventures, such as buying out the indentured service contracts in the city, stocking supplies, and planning for more involved heists. His practical mind is already slicing up the funds for how they'll be allocated.
The rest of the Dregs are now downstairs, continuing the party long after it's ended. Kaz has had enough socializing, though. His skin feels thin from all of it, and he's retreated up the steps to his attic office at the Slat. His leg is aching from standing too long, his feet are tired, and his limp is a little more pronounced than usual. A testament to the weather and how hectic life has been. He grabs the whiskey and Genya's drink of choice, two glasses, and sets them on the desk before flopping down into his chair. His right leg is lifted onto the stool that's by his desk and he leans forward to pull off his boots. "One would think at least some of them would have laryngitis by now," he grumps about the festive music he can hear ringing up from below.
Kaz hasn't celebrated holidays since he was nine years old. He doesn't stop his crew from doing it though, even if he grumbles about it. The most he does is provide some gifts from those chosen few he finds deserving of them, though they're often practical in nature and without his name attached.