abraxaslogs | {The silhouette against the wall

Some habits die hard, and with him here, it’s almost impossible for Inej to keep herself from sitting in the window of Kaz’s room before he gets back from whatever exploration he’s decided to do for the day.

She could use the door like a reasonable person, but the most natural thing in the world is to perch in his window and feed the birds scraps of bread as she waits. One leg is draped over the outside edge of the window while the other is tucked up toward her chest. There's an inherent comfort in the familiarity of it that she can't deny.

If there's one thing that Kaz had forgotten in the last decade or so it was how much there is to learn about a new city. He'd been a fixture of the Barrel for so long, it's something he hasn't thought about.

So each day is spent getting to know the natives, the other Summoned, and considering how he might start working on their future here. Because despite Inej's comment about his not needing to Dirtyhands, he knows he needs to face that he needs something to do, something to focus on for the future.

But they're long days and Inej was not behind the bar when he came through. Pausing at the door to set his cane into a notch in the wall by the door as he closes the door behind him. He stands there for a moment, quiet and unmoving before his lips curl, barely, in the tiniest of looks that is, for him, a smile.

"You know you needn't wait there for me, Wraith. You could even come inside," he teases.

A smile threatens to spill across her face when she hears him on the other side of his door– the familiar fall of steps followed by the slightly louder thud of his cane. She wipes it from her face before he's inside, though, busying herself with the birds again.

"I know," she admits with a glance inside at him, "but it feels natural." Even if the location and circumstances are different, and the hum of the tavern below is not nearly the same as the rumble of The Slat.

Truth is, she missed this. She'd even done it with Sam– a poor imitation of the real thing. Nothing against Sam, just... he's not Kaz and it isn't the same. Something settles in her chest at the familiarity of the moment.

"What did you investigate today?" she asks curiously, tossing the last bit of bread to the birds. He'll surely have a flock perching at his window before long because of her.

It feels familiar, almost comfortable even though nothing in the Barrel is ever truly comfortable. No more than here either. Nothing here is comfortable, or normal. Everything here is a strange, a start that is off center and brings with it talk of war and magic acts that Kaz isn't sure what to think about.

But this, right here, with Inej, it's familiar and more comfortable than anything he's experienced the entire time he's been in this place.

"I can understand that. A need for what's familiar," he adds, there with his cane and his gloves and all that he needs here to feel himself. "Though isn't this at odds with not being who we were?"

He's curious more than accusatory, especially since learning that Jesper had told her much the same thing that she had told Kaz.

Need. That's a very specific word-choice for someone like Kaz, and she can't help the way her ears hone in on it. It catches her breath in her throat, but she wills nothing to pass across her face for it all.

"It doesn't have to be, I don't think," she muses softly. "This may be an opportunity to start over, without the expectations of The Barrel at our backs, but... it doesn't change us as people..." her voice drops low and quiet, "Doesn't change...what we are to each other." Not that she exactly has words for what that is. They haven't had that conversation so explicitly.

He's had time to think since he arrived. About this place. About what the future truly was for him back in Ketterdam and what his future might hold for him here instead. He imagines it might well have been an entirely different thing had he arrived here without finding Jesper or the woman perched on his window sill.

He approaches not with caution but consideration as he leaves his jacket across the back of a chair, careful so there's no wrinkles and then, after pausing a moment, he begins to peel off his gloves.

It's a consideration, a show that he is thinking about her words on more than a superficial level. Perhaps he will never be comfortable with contact from others but with her, he could offer this if nothing else as he lays the gloves against the coat.

"What if those changes do change what we are? To one another?"

It's something he's thought about since their first talk in this place. When she, and then Jesper, had told him he could leave Dirtyhands behind. What if he did and the person he is without that is not the person they've known or cared for?

She watches him, eyes ever-sharp, taking in every motion, every shift toward and away, any favoring of his good leg because his less-good one is causing him problems. Reading him, as though he were a page of The Istorii Sankt'ya. She does it all the time, even if she doesn’t need to, even when she doesn’t realize she’s doing it. Some habits die harder than others.

The coat first. Then the gloves. It’s a simple thing for anyone else, but a tremendous act of trust, and an intimacy few people are afforded in the presence of Kaz Brekker.

How one boy can so effortlessly make her want to punch him is beyond her, but he’s excellent at it, frequently.

“Kaz,” she shifts in her seat at his window so both her legs swing to hang over the ledge on the inside of the room. Fingers curled around the edge either in uncertainty or in a Saints’ worth of restraint not to smack him where he stands. Maybe both. “It won’t. I’m not—” she pauses and breathes a soft huff. ‘With you’ are words too full of other meaning for her to feel comfortable to throw them at him like that. Instead, she settles on, “I’m not going anywhere, Kaz.”

She understands it, the hesitancy, the uncertainty, the reluctance to let go of that part of himself. It’s terrifying. She’d been through it just the same, not so long ago. Is still going through it every day she’s here. And she isn’t sure she could say she’s given up or let go of The Wraith. Not really. She still slinks through shadows, scales buildings and runs rooftops, is still ever-vigilant in keeping an ear to the ground in case she catches an interesting nugget of something whether from locals or fellow Summoned, either one.

“I think you’re missing the point,” she says rather bluntly. “You’re not going to stop being you. You can’t. It’s built into you— the harbor, the barrel, your wins and your losses, The Dregs and The Crows— all of it has shaped you. You won’t lose that if you leave Dirtyhands in Ketterdam. You’ll just be building on top of the foundation you’ve already started with.”

A beat.

A smirk.

“Brick by brick.”

Edited 2022-08-17 21:15 (UTC)

Opening up to others has never been easy for Kaz. The relationship he has with Inej, and Jesper as well, is the closest he has ever been with others since he lost his brother. He knows they're aware of that which makes it harder some times than he would like to admit. Such as being open about his concerns, rather than just burying them and agreeing though he hasn't a clue how to act on them.

It isn't an insult even asking that, as easy as he is to cutting people with words as if they were a blade he wielded for defense. Yet his words often are his first weapon of defense, this is something worse in his mind. Vulnerability.

He hates it. Hates the way it feels, to be as open to others as if he were stripped down to nothing. Hates how it makes him feel emotions he would deny he was even capable of. He's lived so long as a barrel rat that even with two people beside him he knows have followed him literally into Hell and they brought one another back out. Being known by them shouldn't be a fear he has.

And yet there it is.

But he knows it is, in part, to the reality that their paths were never meant to cross and he embraced who he is while she did what she had to. At least in his mind.

"You believe that, and I believe you," he says, knowing she means every word she says. As things stand now. "And even if you use my words against me," he says, giving her a look with an arched brow. "They brought us here to fight a war despite the friends you've both made and all that is offered by those in this building and all. It will come whether we agree to fight for them or not. I don't think either of us will wholly get a chance to leave who we've been behind," he notes, giving voice to the thoughts that have plagued him since the day he arrived.

"I wish I could say I didn't think so, for both you and Jesper, but I sadly don't think it will be."

Of course, he's not thinking of ways he could be part of protecting them when that did happen and not be the bastard he's been. Extremes and all of that.

He steps in closer to her, his gaze intense and his step almost careful.

"That ruthlessness and skill that earned me that name might well be needed here. For all of our sake."

"You believe that…"

All she can feel in the center of her is the other shoe that’s about the drop.

"And I believe you…"

The But… that’s coming on the other side of it.

And she hates how much she feels it. The anticipation. The baited breath. The kick square to the chest when he reiterates the same thing she’s heard from others here already.

“Why does everyone seem to think I don’t know how war works?!” Though the words are sharp as her daggers, they aren’t exactly meant for him. It’s general anger libbed at the closest, easiest target, one she knows can take it, won’t take it personal, because he’ll know it isn’t him, just the situation. The arrow doesn’t land quite like it should. “My country has been at war in one way or another for my. entire life. I may not have been in Ravka for the last three years, but I haven’t forgotten the ill-effects of a war I never asked for!”

Somewhere in the midst of it, she’d jetted off the ledge and stalked straight up to him. He practically towers above her at just shy of a full foot taller, but that does not change her ferocity. All false. Not for him, for once.

“Maybe,” she bites her last words at him out one by one, like each one hurt her more to say than the last. “Mine could, too. But just because it could be useful doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

Edited 2022-08-24 00:19 (UTC)

Whatever he is expecting in that moment, it isn't that she becomes angry with him that he just states why he isn't certain about stripping away the dangerous man he's been. Even if he ignores his fear in doing so, for his own reasons, he certainly hadn't said that.

"I never insinuated that," he snaps back, and yet he doesn't move. Not in the least as she storms up to him. Not that he doesn't know how dangerous that fury from her is, but because he doesn't know how to back down. It isn't in him, no matter who he is seen as by others.

"No one is asking you to like it. No one is asking you to want to be at war. I didn't put you here though, or put you in that position and I won't be punished for it because I worry for you and Jesper in this place. Or that I will do whatever I have to, be whoever is required, to do so."

He speaks in a soft, steady voice, his gaze hard as steel as it meets her own.

"I don't want you to live it. Not any of it. I chose my path a long time ago, Inej. You were forced on yours. If this place lets you leave that path, then good."

Ignoring that he'd had little choice in it as well, but claiming that as he always had. The boy he had been died and was shoved on a barge of the dead. The man he is was born in the Barrel, from it's dirt and grime and greed and pain. He's not sure he could be someone else, whereas Inej and Jesper have always been others who adopted the shroud of the place. They were good at it, some of the best, but it wasn't their blood like it was his.

And he knows that, knows what separates him and why he isn't sure he can be who they want him to be. Worse, that they might need him to be someone he can't.

But he can't admit those fears, isn't sure how to open up like that and so when it becomes this, he isn't surprised.

He snaps back almost instantly. Good. She's gearing for an argument, and who better to have one with than The Bastard of the Barrel? She would never presume he would back down from her, though– lethal as her hand may be, he has no reason to fear her in that way. He could overtake her in a fight if she had no blade on her. Not that he would have to; she'd never go for him like that in the first place.

"I'm not punishing you," she bites back, not bothering to contain the roll of her eyes. "I just–" It's a tangled, frustrated sound that cuts her words short, not sure how to conceptualize it all into words. She's just tired. And it keeps not mattering, because no matter what, the world just keeps handing her more and more to hold.

His gaze is sharp and cold as steel, but his voice, his voice is so soft it disarms her almost instantly. Her eyes close as she listens to his words, and almost more than she knows how to handle, she just wants to crumble into him, make him hold her– not with whispers of lies of how everything will be okay, just this, harsh truths and genuine wishes, however far out of reach they feel.

She doesn't, of course. She barely wavers where she stands. But as close as he is? It would be nearly impossible to miss the sag in her shoulders, the way she tucks her head just slightly, curls in on herself in a nearly imperceptible way.

She expects nothing (life is so much easier when you stop having expectations). She just needs him to stay where he is. Near. So she can feel the presence of him, even as her eyes are closed and she can't actually see him.

"But you'll be there...?" she asks on wavering tones. "Even if... our paths don't perfectly align?" She doesn't think that will ever be true, not really. Whatever path the girl that had been pulled onto that ship all those years ago would have followed was yanked out from under her the moment she'd been stolen. But she wants to hear him say it anyway. That she doesn't have to be The Wraith for him to... need her? Want her?

She doesn't dare let herself so much as think the other word.

It shouldn't feel good to get these emotions out, the sides of him that he has had little place for since he was pulled from the water - where the very first of his anger in this place had begun. And yet this isn't his target, but had they ever been when these moments had happened?

But maybe this is what they both needed. After all they had been through back in their own lands, and all that this place represented and had taken. He is quite aware there are six months or more of her - and Jesper's - life where he wasn't part of it. Couldn't be. Was cut off from them and he blames this place for that. Even if they had been off living their own lives, he wasn't cut from theirs until here.

It isn't the way she shifts though that hurts him, that makes his heart hurt as it seemingly loses its rhythm. It's those words.

For a moment he regrets taking off his gloves. It would be easier for him to do this without the contact, with being able to wholly put her first rather than his own troubles. And yet, maybe this is what he needs to do so he can push past that.

One hand curves to her shoulder, offering the support he can physically. Even offering an opening for her to come closer. He's not sure how to even handle it, but he wants the offer there.

But then his bare hand cups her chin, ensuring her gaze is on him. Offering both touch and his pale gaze as he stares into her eyes. "No matter what our paths are in the world? You and I will always share a path, Inej. You knew that when you went off to hunt slave traders, didn't you?" He assumes she did. Even if he had worried before, if she's asking it here then she must have thought that back home. "Why then would anything be different here?"

Little does Kaz know that he was never not a part of her life, even here, even before he turned up in the pools of Cadens. She didn't leave him behind in Ketterdam, she carried him with her, from the moment she turned up in Solvunn, to the second she followed Jesper back here to the Free Cities. There was never really a moment he wasn't somewhere in her thoughts.

Oh.

A soft gasp escapes her. The weight of his hand on her shoulder is barely there, but it is impossible to ignore the pressure of it. For a moment, she doesn't even dare to open her eyes for fear it might ruin the moment completely.

Not until she feels the press of his fingers against her face does she open her eyes. Too shocked by it to do anything else. She shakes her head almost imperceptibly, "I..." but she has no answer, and her voice disappears almost entirely and instead she just shakes her head, more vigorously than before. Through a breath as she draws it in sharply, she manages, "I thought- maybe- if I can't, or don't want to, be The Wraith, what use do you have of me?" she can't help it, can't stop herself, as she presses herself against him, her face buried in the material of his shirt.

She isn't used to this. Him. Like this. It's overwhelming in a way she can't quite process. Makes her so much more desperate to say everything she's held her tongue for, suddenly. "I just don't want to lose you," she mumbles against his chest.

Jesper could not say when she had become so much a part of his life, just that she was. Just as he was part of hers. Of course there had been anxiousness in giving her that ship, but if he couldn't let her free, trusting she would return, then was he any better than anyone else in her life had been?

Maybe there hadn't been as much choice here but they had been apart and yet came back together in the end. And yet, as she admits that fear, he knows he can't blame her. When has she ever seen him need anyone? Seen him keep someone around who had lost their usefulness to him. He is cutthroat and ruthless and everyone knows that. Even he knows that. He has to be.

And yet in that moment he realizes that, in part, this is what is meant about being able to leave Dirtyhands behind. Maybe not all of him, but there are parts he won't need. Doesn't want even.

"Inej."

He says her name softly but deliberately. Even as he slides his arms around her. It's almost easier, the material of his shirt a barrier once more, her face pressed close but there's that slip of fabric that makes it easier for him. He's getting better but he might not never be fully healed.

So he holds her like that, his hand stroking along the length of her spine.

"Your worth is in a million things that have nothing to do with the Wraith." And a million more that do but that doesn't matter now. "You be who you want to be, and trust that I will always be there with you. You're not losing me. Not unless you walk away."

He chuckles, little more than his chest moving with little sound.

"Have you ever known of me to let go of anything that is my own without a fight?" And she is most certainly his. At least in his mind.

She shouldn't be doing this.

It's all she can think the whole time she's standing there with her face pressed against him.

She shouldn't be doing this.

Touching him when he didn't ask for it.

She shouldn't be doing this.

Clinging to him like a pathetic limpet.

She shouldn't be doing this.

Begging stupid things from him.

She shouldn't be doing this.

Showing this kind of weakness.

No matter how hard that thought drums in her mind, she doesn’t move from where she’s stood. Doesn’t let go of him or step away from him the way the rational side of her knows she should do. She just stays there, and wonders if he knows that even this is a world of comfort.

The traitor behind her ribs threatens to burst inside of her chest when he says her name like that. She doesn’t want to look at him, not yet, with the fears she’s admitted and the shame for laying it all at his feet in such a way still clinging to every inch of her. But that tone in his voice demands her attention, albeit softly, gentle in a way no one else would ever believe the man in front of her capable of.

She doesn’t look up, but she does turn her face so her cheek is pressed against the solid wall of his chest. She can hear the soft thrum of his heartbeat like this. Low and steady and sure. Not a waver one, in all these words she’s somehow tugged out of him. How she wished her own sounded like that, but she's sure it’s more akin to a hummingbird’s wings.

"Your worth is in a million things…"

She closes her eyes again against those words, unsure of how to respond to them at all. She knows other people see other things in her. But what does Kaz see? She does not find the bravery to ask.

The sound of the rumble in his chest at a laugh half caught and lost somewhere on the way is worth his weight in gold. She hopes one day to earn one, a real laugh, unbidden and genuine. But this will do for the time being. This and that softness in his voice.

And just like that, the spell is half-broken. A smirk slides over her lips and she gathers her wits. "Mmm, of course," she hums softly, pressing a hand flat against his chest and tilting her head back to look up at him. "Kaz Brekker always protects his investments," her eyebrows lift at her echoing his own, terribly timed and horribly phrased, words back at him. The context is different this time, it's not the sharp barb he'd used it as, back then.

If Kaz were to take time to think about it, he would be proud of himself. Proud to not flinch away from contact. Proud to know he is perhaps capable of offering Inej things she needs.

But in that moment he isn't thinking about that. He's thinking about those feelings he had when he gave Inej all she wanted and accepted it might mean never seeing her again. He's thinking about her thinking all she offers him is being the Wraith and while that has been his greatest asset for the longest time, it is not the be all, end all of what she offers. Not even close.

Tenderly he strokes his hand over her back, even when she tilts back slightly to look up at him. Then his own words are being thrown back at him and, for a moment, he tenses. Gaze flickering over her face, taking in everything about her in a moment to try and determine how badly she might have taken those words.

"Kaz Brekker always knows who is worth putting everything on the line for," he says, and then, if she had been listening to his heart, she might well have heard the way it surges, even as his pale gaze holds her own.

A deep, comforting warmth spreads along her spine with the slow stroke of his hand, and she’s certain her cheeks are stained with it, too. This moment between them more intimate than so many others before it. The first of its kind here, in this new world, where everything feels just a little off-kilter, like someone moved all the furniture in the room two inches to the left when you were out. She doesn’t quite dare to hope it’s only the first of more to come— but it’s still tangled up in the mess all the same, gilded and golden and bright, the smallest sprinkle of hope anyway, despite all logic that tells her not to.

The way he looks at her like he’s trying to memorize every inch of her is unnerving in an oddly delightful sort of way, though the realization does nothing for the way her cheeks flushed earlier. And his words steal the breath from her lungs, make her heart stutter like the flutter of hummingbird wings again, suddenly uncertain of what else to say.

But saying nothing would make him doubt it was the right thing, make him panic, however little he may show it on the outside, that he’d stepped over some invisible boundary. A small smile presses across her lips as she scrambled for something, anything to say to head that off before it can start and finally, she settles on a soft-whispered truth, “I am eternally grateful you saw something in me you could not walk away from that night,” her fingers curl slightly into the material of his shirt, memories of The Menagerie always far too close to the surface for comfort.

Never in his life has Kaz shared a moment like this with another. He isn't sure what to make of it, that part of him that is scared of physical touch screaming to draw back and yet his heart is saying anything but. He has a moment to be close to her, to offer comfort and truth all in one and he's willing to take that chance. Even if he feels somehow pale and flushed at the same time.

And already his mind is wondering how stupid he is in saying that. Maybe she wanted that distance, that ability to walk away from the Wraith and, in the end, him. But then she says what she does and he draws a breath that feels too cold for his lungs. Like the bitter air of the North but all because he is as flushed as he is, his heart racing in ways it rarely does. Kaz is a master of himself first and foremost and yet this is untried waters and he isn't sure of his ability to swim in them.

Quiet a moment, considering his words in that moment. He's opened up to her physically in that touch they're sharing, and he knows, if they're to go forward, it isn't the only way he'll have to open up to her.

"That night... It was the most frightened I have ever been since I took the name Kaz Brekker," he admits, his words soft and falling into an odd cadence as he forces them out. They're not easy for him but they're important for him to say. "I never take chances without knowing the odds and being sure the outcome. I've never had that with you, never been certain what my chances were, but you have always been worth the risk. Even when you do things that make me utterly and completely furious with you. Even if you ever chose to walk away from it all. You have always been worth the risk."

They may not be romantic words, but for Kaz Brekker they are heartfelt and honest and admitting more than he would to anyone else and therefore the most romantic of all.

She waits with bated breath for whatever might come next from his mouth. She can’t stop the doubt that forms across her features at that first admission, a curious tweak at edge of her eyes as she studies him and listens to the rest.

Truths so blatant may never have felt as ardent as these. One only need not know Kaz Brekker to not recognize the inherent romance woven into that admission.

That he never knew
Her limits.
His chances.

That he knew it could fail.
She might reject him, or the job, or both.
That walking away is, always was, and would always be: her choice.

And somehow, all sense of logic disappeared. He decided to step off the edge and trust that he wouldn’t fall. Or he would. And either way, he’d have an answer.

Every annoyance, every fear and worry, every aggravation and argument— worth it. She… was worth the treasure of keeping and the heartache of losing her.

How does she even respond to that?

It’s her own step off the edge, a blur of a thought, a decision, and an action in one fluid motion—

She leans up on her toes as her fingers frame his cheeks and she pulls— pulls him down, pulls herself up— and she kisses him. It’s a bottomless well of unspoken words poured into these few, crucial seconds before she slowly starts to ease back onto flat feet, fingertips trailing feather-light down his cheeks until her hands drop back to her sides.

It’s I love you
And it’s Thank you
It’s I choose this.
I choose here.
I choose you.

And it’s silence.
It’s comfort.
It’s you.
It’s you.
It’s always been you.

There are no words to come after a kiss like that, so she lets that tiny, short-lived and risk-stacked action do all the speaking for her.

Edited 2022-10-03 22:33 (UTC)

For so many years, Kaz has made the world believe he takes chances. None of them are more than calculated risks after planning and information gathering. Perhaps he could say the same about this moment with Inej. They've grown closer over the years, becoming more intimate in ways that he allowed.

And she had let him have things his way. She had never taken more than he offered and somehow that had been enough.

But it wasn't even enough for him any longer. He had taken small steps, showing her that she is important to him, that he has feelings for her that he's never hidden but not truly known how to express. Yet then he had offered touches of his bare hands with her. Soft touches and admissions he's never made.

Like in this moment.

Those words are more than he's ever offered another, never wanted to offer to many and only in the last few years and those he's kept close to him. Maybe he should have expected that kiss, but he didn't. Even as she leans up on her toes, moves in closer to him.

The brush of her lips is soft and tender. It's everything he's ever thought about, not let himself daydream about, and something he'd never thought might ever happen. Yet the reality was nothing like the fantasy in his head in the dark hours. It was magical and delicious... and positively shocking in ways he can't control.

His heart races, the world goes grey and stars sparkle along the edge of his vision and then everything goes black as he crumples to the floor at her feet.

It was stupid.
She knew it was stupid even as she did it, and she did it anyway.

"All Saints," she mutters, trying to catch him as he goes down– it's an awkward sort of thing, he's so much taller, and she doesn't so much as stop him from going down as soften the fall a bit once he got there. But that's probably about all she's going to do. She's a bit stuck now with him half-collapsed in her lap.

She knows he'll be mortified when he wakes up, but it's okay- she expected it going in. They'll get there, and she isn't put off by the work it will take to do so. For a moment, she doesn't move at all, just takes in the sight of him, unconscious, untethered to any of the things he carries with him at all times. He doesn't look innocent like she thought he might, just...relaxed in a way he never is when he's awake. She wants to find a way to put that look on him when he is.

Jesper, little help? Kaz's room.

Jesper will find the pair of them in a bit of a heap in the floor. He'll have to help her haul him into the bed.

"Help," she says, not at all in distress, slowly tipping her head back to watch as Jesper slips into the room.

Jesper's down in the basement stacking shelves for Mags when he sees the message and raises an eyebrow. But of course, it's his people so he doesn't hesitate, taking the stairs two at a time to get there quickly. His eyes widen when he sees them both down and rushes, concerned at once.

"Saints! What happened?" She doesn't seem panicked but he is certainly going to panic. Kaz is passed out? On top of her? Jesper reaches down to grab their fearless leader by the arm and hefts him up. It's probably a good thing he is passed out as he wouldn't probably like so much contact as Jesper doesn't really think about it. Since he has no idea what even happened, he just wants to get him off Inej.

Jesper is not so strong that it's easy to drag Kaz's whole body off her, so he can't pick him up bridal style, but he can drag them over to the bed and put Kaz onto it. And again, luckily Kaz is passed out, because Jesper's instinct is to touch his face, patting it. "Kaz? The fuck?"

"It's- okay..." she says slowly, blinking and only barely containing a laugh as Jesper gets to work so quickly and Kaz is out of her lap in a matter of seconds.

She pushes herself to her feet and follows him over to the bed. "He'll be fine-" she says, stepping up next to the pair of them. "I..." she hesitates, unsure of how specific she should- could- be. "really shouldn't have kissed him."

Logic, window, etc.

The last thing Kaz wanted to do in that moment was pass out. It isn't as if he hadn't thought of overcoming his trauma enough to be able to kiss someone. At least her, because he's come to know in the last year or so that there's at least one person he'd actually want to have physical contact with. Maybe if he had prepared. Maybe if he had thought about it more.

Maybe if he hadn't made an utterly and complete fool of himself.

In that moment he comes to there's a split second thought, a panic of not knowing where he is or what had happened.

And then wishing he could forget.

"I'm fine. Stop hovering," he mutters, flopping back onto the bed and covering his eyes with his arm.

Jesper looks at her, shocked, absolutely shocked. And then, after a moment, it's Jesper, so he grins. "Damn, Inej, you can knock a man out with a kiss?" He's the worst, the absolute worst, please don't in any way encourage him. "It's probably worth--- shit."

He jumps when Kaz comes to and moves, having not even noticed that their boss was awake again. He does not want to be caught talking about how Inej's kiss was worth it! Also almost flirting with her! When Kaz is awake!

"S'okay, Kaz, we've all been there." Jesper has kissed someone and promptly passed out. Usually after something more than kissing and/or liquor, but the point is, he's trying to be supportive. He reaches down, intending to try and make it light by patting Kaz on the head, literally thinking nothing more of it. Someone stop him.

{A window seat with my name on it » Kaz

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