"I'd say let him suffer to learn a lesson, but I need to make use of his skills in the morning. Best ensure he's in good shape for it." There's no rest for the wicked, and for Kaz that means working the day after winter's eve. He slowly rolls his shoulders and arches his back in his seat, feeling the stiff muscles pop. A body is merely a tool in his mind, and he pushes his to the limit. His cane with the glittering jewels for crow's eyes rests against the chair's armrest, hooked around it. His boots are neatly set near his chair within easy reach if needed. Absolutely everything has a place with purpose, and is neatly put there with nary a pen out of sorts. Kaz is as meticulous in his space and habits as his mind is in sorting through plans and projects.
He pours her a drink from the bottle he snagged for her and nudges the glass towards her, then helps himself to one. The whiskey burns down his throat and belly, but leaves a pleasantly sweet aftertaste. His eyes cast over the food she's brought. Tantalizing tidbits from the tasting menu crafted with him and his chef and bartender. Quality items, but ones that inspire pairing with expensive drinks. It's honestly better food than Kaz's efficient palate needs, but then again, he's not the target audience for the luxuries provided at the club. He merely profits off of them.
There are no decorations in his office, no hint of holiday cheer. The air up in the attic is a bit cold in the winter and warm in the summer, because Kaz can't be bothered to spend money to ensure the temperature is perfect in his living space. Downstairs where the Crows congregate is another matter, but up here? Kaz lives off very limited means. It's never bothered him, but he's aware of it now that the woman he cares about is sitting with him.
Slowly he gets to his feet, clad just in black socks now that match his black pants and suit jacket. He's wearing a silver and gold vest, his only nod towards the season for show appearances. The boss of the club wearing it made sense. He heads towards his bed and snags the blanket, moving to lay it over her lap. "Here. If it's cold."
no subject
He pours her a drink from the bottle he snagged for her and nudges the glass towards her, then helps himself to one. The whiskey burns down his throat and belly, but leaves a pleasantly sweet aftertaste. His eyes cast over the food she's brought. Tantalizing tidbits from the tasting menu crafted with him and his chef and bartender. Quality items, but ones that inspire pairing with expensive drinks. It's honestly better food than Kaz's efficient palate needs, but then again, he's not the target audience for the luxuries provided at the club. He merely profits off of them.
There are no decorations in his office, no hint of holiday cheer. The air up in the attic is a bit cold in the winter and warm in the summer, because Kaz can't be bothered to spend money to ensure the temperature is perfect in his living space. Downstairs where the Crows congregate is another matter, but up here? Kaz lives off very limited means. It's never bothered him, but he's aware of it now that the woman he cares about is sitting with him.
Slowly he gets to his feet, clad just in black socks now that match his black pants and suit jacket. He's wearing a silver and gold vest, his only nod towards the season for show appearances. The boss of the club wearing it made sense. He heads towards his bed and snags the blanket, moving to lay it over her lap. "Here. If it's cold."