(no subject)

There are coffee shops here that he likes. It's not Ketterdam - it never will be Ketterdam - but, between them, he and Inej are starting to construct a life that makes sense here. Last night was a particularly late one; Inej hadn't come in off the roof until dawn was staining the sky and, as a result, Kaz finds himself a little slow to start. He's sitting at an outside table at one of the coffee shops he likes best, a double espresso at his elbow and a cigarette between two gloved fingers as he idly reads the paper.

Maybe later, he'll be useful. Maybe.
What he's finding is that it doesn't matter as much here as it used to.