The whispers stopped the moment he sat down at the table and at that point, it was over. The problem with relapsing is it can go from zero to a hundred in one good hand. If he lost right away, he might have shaken out of it, but that rush of winning he hasn't felt in so long, and then he was hooked. He hasn't gone home because he doesn't want to face it, he doesn't want to admit it. All that work, all of his effort, gone. He can't find solace in the Horizon because it doesn't help, fake gambling, and losing himself in other domains.
So he gorges and he hides and so far he's only spent his own money, money that he's been saving for them, but they both know his scruples only last as long as his own coin does, before he goes for someone else. For now, he is riding a high, he's in his winning mode again, flying, not even cheating although he can now, but he doesn't want to cheat, he wants to win. He doesn't think about Inej and Kaz because it'll only make him drown in self-hate. Just the cards. The smell of the table. The feel of coins under his fingers.
He is laughing with the others, seeming like he is burning with his usual type of charisma and glee, that brittle way he gets in these times. On edge. Jesper is about to suggest another when he is completely startled out of his delusions with the familiar crack of a cane in front of him. He jumps, as does everyone else there, and it's as if all the joy and bliss drains out of him in an instant.
Fear shows in his gray eyes, along with a lingering familiar fevered sickness, and he shrinks down in his seat. It's as if the others there understand without needing to be told that this is a battle between wills, or rather one will slamming down the other, and they don't interrrupt. He swallows and any snark or attempt at making this seem unimportant drains out of him.
"Guess my seat is opening up," Jesper says weakly, the opposite of the swaggering confident youth he was only moments before. He slides out of the chair and bites his lip, not looking at Kaz, not even needing him to say a word. Without that bright facade, little details are obvious. The circles under his eyes from not sleeping and being strung out. He forgot to eat. He slept outside, there's dirt on his coat, it's not the first time Kaz has seen all of these details and known what it means.
Despite seeming subdued now, he can't help a desperate look over his shoulder, laughter from within making him want to turn on his heel. He sways and hears one new dark whisper in his ear. You don't need him. You were fine without him. You don't need anyone.
no subject
So he gorges and he hides and so far he's only spent his own money, money that he's been saving for them, but they both know his scruples only last as long as his own coin does, before he goes for someone else. For now, he is riding a high, he's in his winning mode again, flying, not even cheating although he can now, but he doesn't want to cheat, he wants to win. He doesn't think about Inej and Kaz because it'll only make him drown in self-hate. Just the cards. The smell of the table. The feel of coins under his fingers.
He is laughing with the others, seeming like he is burning with his usual type of charisma and glee, that brittle way he gets in these times. On edge. Jesper is about to suggest another when he is completely startled out of his delusions with the familiar crack of a cane in front of him. He jumps, as does everyone else there, and it's as if all the joy and bliss drains out of him in an instant.
Fear shows in his gray eyes, along with a lingering familiar fevered sickness, and he shrinks down in his seat. It's as if the others there understand without needing to be told that this is a battle between wills, or rather one will slamming down the other, and they don't interrrupt. He swallows and any snark or attempt at making this seem unimportant drains out of him.
"Guess my seat is opening up," Jesper says weakly, the opposite of the swaggering confident youth he was only moments before. He slides out of the chair and bites his lip, not looking at Kaz, not even needing him to say a word. Without that bright facade, little details are obvious. The circles under his eyes from not sleeping and being strung out. He forgot to eat. He slept outside, there's dirt on his coat, it's not the first time Kaz has seen all of these details and known what it means.
Despite seeming subdued now, he can't help a desperate look over his shoulder, laughter from within making him want to turn on his heel. He sways and hears one new dark whisper in his ear. You don't need him. You were fine without him. You don't need anyone.
"Kaz, I---"