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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"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."