Inej notices- the way he can't keep still as he explains, fingers flexing in uncertainty; how he steadily keeps his gaze on the floor, like if he looks away from some specific spot on the rug beside the bed, he'll lose all his nerve. She doesn't care. It holds no difference whether he looks at her as he explains.
With all the pieces laid out, the picture is perfectly clear now. The war with Rollins, the methodical way he'd brought that man down was more than simply settling a score, it was personal. It was family. Home.
She has questions. Why had they come to Ketterdam in the first place? What of their parents? But she doesn't press for more than he is ready to give, this is more than he's ever shared, it would be cruel to ask of him more than that.
As though the plague wasn't terrible enough all its own, the story keeps going. Gets worse. Inej finds herself blinking tears down her cheek, a hand coming up to swipe them away before settling back on Kaz's leg.
Brekker was never his name. She had never had a reason to doubt it before, it seemed to fit him so perfectly, it was hard to imagine him as anything else. She's curious, of course, but she won't force him to give her something he's not ready for her to hold, so she doesn't ask.
Jesper has the consolations in hand, but Inej chooses practicality. Kaz may need those more at ease with the emotions around him, but he runs on logic, that's what will center him again. "Breathe," she says, her voice soft, but firm. "Slowly." She does a few slow, deep breaths, gives him a measure to focus on.
no subject
With all the pieces laid out, the picture is perfectly clear now. The war with Rollins, the methodical way he'd brought that man down was more than simply settling a score, it was personal. It was family. Home.
She has questions. Why had they come to Ketterdam in the first place? What of their parents? But she doesn't press for more than he is ready to give, this is more than he's ever shared, it would be cruel to ask of him more than that.
As though the plague wasn't terrible enough all its own, the story keeps going. Gets worse. Inej finds herself blinking tears down her cheek, a hand coming up to swipe them away before settling back on Kaz's leg.
Brekker was never his name. She had never had a reason to doubt it before, it seemed to fit him so perfectly, it was hard to imagine him as anything else. She's curious, of course, but she won't force him to give her something he's not ready for her to hold, so she doesn't ask.
Jesper has the consolations in hand, but Inej chooses practicality. Kaz may need those more at ease with the emotions around him, but he runs on logic, that's what will center him again. "Breathe," she says, her voice soft, but firm. "Slowly." She does a few slow, deep breaths, gives him a measure to focus on.