everymonstrousthing | (no subject)

Entry tags:

ig,
inej

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Waiting while Inej finishes getting ready, Kaz checks his cuffs for, perhaps, the thirtieth time. The suit is new on, crisply tailored, deepest charcoal. He had endured a haircut and shave that afternoon. His boots have a mirror shine. He's made an effort which, while not dissimilar to how he looks every day, is enough that he's sure Inej will notice. His tie is navy blue, not a colour he'd normally choose but one that he knows Inej enjoys when he wears it.

So he's trying.
He's more than trying.

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"In memory," repeats Kaz, and then nods his head. They reach the restaurant and he takes his arm back so that he can open the door for her while holding onto his cane. "You're right. A Crow Club it is. The Two Crows club. Because it's the second?"

She flashes him a smile of thanks as he opens the door for her. Even when he was being a shit to her in the past, there was always something gentlemanly about Kaz. She likes it.

"I like it," she says. "Just have to tell Jesper the reasoning, so he doesn't think he's excluded."

"He's not excluded. He can drink there all he likes." Kaz shrugs. "If he wants to lose all of his money, there are legal establishments here that are more than willing to take it off his hands."

"I meant in helping run the place." She tilts her head up at Kaz in curiosity. "Unless you don't?"

"Unless I don't what, Wraith?" he asks, frowning. "Speak sense, Inej."

She takes a breath, refusing to rise to the barb. "I said Jesper shouldn't feel excluded, because I assumed you meant we'd run it like the Crow Club, you in command and Jesper and I helping with the rest. But you only said Jesper would be drinking and gambling, like you don't mean for him to be a part of the business end. So I said, I meant that Jesper should be helping with the business, unless you don't mean for Jesper to be helping with the business. Does that make sense now, Kaz?"

"Oh. Perfect sense." Kaz hadn't meant to exclude Jesper, as it happened. It had been an uncharacteristic slip of the tongue; maybe he was getting too soft. He shrugs.

"Where else is he going to go?"

"That would be the question," Inej agrees. She smirks slightly. "He's a danger to himself when unsupervised. Idle hands are the Devil's playground."

"Isn't that always what they say?" says Kaz, grinning. A girl offers to take his coat. He slips out of it without her assistance, then holds his hands out for Inej's. He takes the opportunity to drop a kiss into his hair.

It's so normal, it's bewildering. They are now the people they once watched, she once watched, enjoying their evening out at a nice place without a care in the world.

The hostess checks them in and leads them to a table. Inej takes in the restaurant as they walk, eyes gliding over everything. Kaz was right; she does like this place. It's simple in its elegance, the kind of posh that doesn't need to force itself on others. It's clean lines and rich fabrics and glimmers of silver. It's a lot like Kaz, actually.

"I don't think I've ever been somewhere this nice," she murmurs.

"Me either," says Kaz, a smile twitching the side of his mouth as they get to the table and he pulls out the chair for her, waiting for her to take a seat. Once they're both sitting, he peels off his gloves and tucks them into his pocket. For a moment, he hesitates and then he offers her his hand.

"But this is who we are now, isn't it?" he says. "Away from Ketterdam. This is who we can make ourselves into."

He's always so courteous with her now; sometimes it feels even more telling, revealing, than when he takes off his gloves.

She smooths out her skirt and the tablecloth at her place, which was smooth to begin with.

"But we're always the same at the core," she says. "You think?"

"I think so," he says, because he likes to think that about her, at least, even if he is rotten to his core. Even if he is ruined by what he become. She's better than him, he knows. She's made of rarer stuff. He picks up a menu and offers it to her. "Some things are too far gone to be fixed."

He's talking about himself, obviously. Never her.

She knows better than to believe that he's talking about anyone other than himself right now. Maybe he believes it of others -- not of her -- but he's made himself look a monster long enough that he doesn't see it any other way.

She takes the menu with a shrewd look. "I don't like broken things," she says, both casual and pointed, before dropping her gaze to the menu.

Inej wouldn't be here if she didn't think him capable.

But that's the thing, isn't it? He doesn't feel broken when she looks at him. He doesn't feel monstrous when she sees him. He watches her for a moment, and then he smiles, glancing at his menu.

"Getting a taste for the finer things, Wraith?"

"Only that I can share with you," she replies without much thought. She went to parties, wrapped in silks, and the food and drink tasted like ash. The same things taste sweeter now.

"I'm sure you've scoped out this place before choosing it. What's good?"

"The seafood is supposed to be excellent," he says, paging through his own menu. "But, admittedly, I mostly picked it because of the dessert menu." He glances up at her. "I've figured not out the way to your heart, Wraith."

She smirks at him, eyebrow raised.

"There's more to it than orange cakes," she teases, because he knows that. "You're going to get me fat, Brekker. I'll be an awful Wraith then."

"Don't need a wraith here, anyway," says Kaz, definitely looking amused. "Just the girl I love and I'd love you no matter how round you got."

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