everymonstrousthing | (no subject)

Back in Ketterdam, there had never been any need for a creature like Kaz Brekker to learn how to cook. Food shops in the Barrel stayed open through the night, so there had always been somewhere to go out to, somewhere to buy whatever he was craving. Most of the Dregs had never seen him eat; it was part of the legend, that he existed on hate and greed alone.

In Darrow, there were also food places that stayed open through the night, companies that would deliver almost anything to the door at any hour of the day and night. But not the food he'd grown up with - not fried potatoes and pancakes and stroopwaffel and a hundred other things that he gets cravings for. So he's learned to cook and, tonight, he's cooking for Inej and he's cooking for Nina. Because Nina still isn't really speaking to him and if ever there was a way to Nina Zenik's heart, it was through her taste-buds.

He moves around the small kitchen in their apartment like he belongs there, music playing quietly in the background, the windows open to the chill evening. He's got his sleeves pushed up to his elbows, his gloves within easy reach but, for now, for right now, he's doing okay without them.

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Inej frowns a little bit, because she has nothing to offer that, except solace and comfort. If even Nina wasn't sure how to deal with whatever was happening, Inej wasn't sure it was something to be dealt with.

"Darrow can do odd things, sometimes," Inej says, because it's the only answer she has. "I hope everything settles."

"I wouldn't trust too many things to hope," says Kaz, coming to the table with a plate of waffles, syrup, a dish of fried potatoes balanced in the bend of one arm. "Take these. There's more."

"Sorry Kaz, my nails are wet. You'll have to rely on Inej's good graces." Nina said as she wiggled her colored nails at him. The food smelled good and she tried to take comfort in that.

"Well, if this is Darrow's doing, I would rather it finish it's nonsense sooner than later. The last thing anyone wants is a cranky Grisha running around." Or whatever was happening to Geralt. She felt for him; she knew he didn't like how much he stood out. The way his mutations were behaving right now only made it worse, and painful.

Edited 2017-10-27 19:04 (UTC)

Inej rises to help Kaz with the plates, leaning up to give him a brief kiss on the cheek as well. Rather teasingly, she asks, "Would you like me to paint your nails next?" Nina's are half done, after all, even with breaks to drink the wine.

"All the static I've been hearing is about this Purge nonsense," Inej admits, and shakes her head. She finds it distasteful. "Nothing about Grisha--or other magical types, really. If there's something going on, it's something even I can't track down."

Kaz's nails are neat, clean and clipped, and he shoots her a very dubious look, though the corner of his mouth lifts in a smile. "My nails are fine how they are, Wraith. Thank you." He sets down the plates in the middle of the table and then goes back to the kitchen for a couple more. Once the table is laden, he sits, reaching for a glass of wine.

"I've got faith we can withstand it," he says. "Wouldn't put money on a lot of these people, though."

"I'm sure the magic-types that are being affected are trying to keep it under wraps."

Nina frowned, cradling her wine glass close as she just sort of stared at the food. She should eat, but it seemed like-- it seemed big, and she couldn't see a cause. What would happen if it somehow got to her next?

"I'll be spending this Purge night locked in my apartment, I think. Given my mood, I dare anyone to try." She was pretty sure if she killed someone in self-defense, she was clear by the law.

Edited 2017-10-29 22:29 (UTC)

Inej looks back at Kaz evenly, because she thinks he could look quite charming with his neat, tidy nails painted a neat, tidy color, but she won't push it. When he's finished bringing everything in, Inej shifts everything from couch to table, nodding along as Nina speaks.

"And no one's half as mad as I am, to go up that high," Inej points out, "so you ought to have a pleasantly boring evening all around. Which will be very good."

Inej loads a plate with a bit of everything, though she does it slowly, her mind elsewhere. It keeps circling back, concernedly, to the idea of Nina's powers and dreams being erratic. She thinks of asking about the parem. She's not sure she ought to.

"I figured we'd do much the same thing," he says, shooting Inej a glance. He hopes that they're thinking along the same lines, the same lines as Nina apparently, holing up and up riding it out. He doesn't see any particular profit to be made, in this kind of chaos. He reaches for a spoonful of fried potatoes, pours himself a little beer. "Don't let it go cold."

"Don't insult me," Nina sniffed when Kaz warned her not to let anything go cold. As if to prove a point, she piled her plate high and then settled back. She'd pace herself, but she wasn't about to pass up anything that smelled this good.

Especially if she wasn't going to end up dead by the end of the meal.

Inej has already tucked in, warm, savory potatoes and sweet, sticky pancakes and the sharp bite of the wine. She looks between Nina and Kaz, and rolls her eyes, just a little bit, because she understands Nina's frustrations with him, she does, but nobody's going to get anywhere if it's just a bunch of digging in of heels.

It isn't her place, though. They'll come to their points and make their peace. They always have. And she does love them both dearly, for all their stubborn grudges they can both keep.

"It's good," she says to Kaz, and leans over to give him a soft kiss on the cheek. "Thank you for cooking."

"You're welcome," says Kaz, smiling in a way that he only ever smiles at her, a way that softens some of his sharpness, shows the boy underneath the monster. He takes a bite of his own food, chewing slowly. "These are better than they were the last time I tried them."