Wylan’s gaze goes first to him and not the money. It could be simply that Kaz is the moneymaker for future payouts, the one to bring in jobs, and the practical side of Kaz’s mind doesn’t discount that element. Why would he? He’s worked hard for that reputation. It’s also far easier to embrace than the added relief that someone wants him alive for the simple sake of it. Logically, Kaz knows he’d die for his crew, and he knows some of them would die for him as well, but putting that into anything more takes emotional lifting he’s too tired to manage right now.
“Why would I die? I have plenty more plans in the works,” is the flippant response that comes, as though even his death is something within Kaz Brekker’s control. It’s not a complete lie however, as he does indeed still have things he wants to stay alive to ensure happens. Kaz is nothing if not a man who lives his life with literal and proverbial fists raised, he’s not sure what he’d even be without a fight in front of him. Which is a question that often rises to the surface when he’s not keeping himself in constant motion. A question that he tries to keep locked in a vault inside himself so that it doesn’t trip him up in moving forward.
He doesn’t know for certain that Wylan hasn’t followed his orders and eaten. What Kaz often does is play the odds, he covers every possibility he can conceive, to where surprises are limited in what unfolds in front of him. Therefore, from another pocket he withdraws a bag that he drops on the table. Inside is some dried meat, bread, and cheese. Simple fair that wouldn’t spoil immediately, but he gives Wylan a look that says he’ll be checking that it’s eaten within a somewhat timely manner though not right away.
On Kaz’s end, his eating habits can vary widely. Growing up first on a destitute farm then living on the streets, he knows the value of eating when he can because food is never guaranteed. At the same time, he also doesn’t bother to take pleasure in it or have a set schedule for it. Anything that won’t poison him is good enough, and he’s well known for wolfing down a meal on the go at completely random times, handfuls of something he can shovel in to and fro and be done with it. On days like today, when he’s been busy with a mission, getting paid, and tending to his crew, he hasn’t found the time for it. However, he always makes sure the Slat has a full pantry for the Dregs and he’ll get something to eat eventually from it.
If there’s one thing Kaz can do, it’s take care of himself.
Leaning on his cane, he limps to Wylan’s work table, looking over the vials though not touching them. For now. “Come up with your list yet?” Naturally, he goes to business first.
no subject
“Why would I die? I have plenty more plans in the works,” is the flippant response that comes, as though even his death is something within Kaz Brekker’s control. It’s not a complete lie however, as he does indeed still have things he wants to stay alive to ensure happens. Kaz is nothing if not a man who lives his life with literal and proverbial fists raised, he’s not sure what he’d even be without a fight in front of him. Which is a question that often rises to the surface when he’s not keeping himself in constant motion. A question that he tries to keep locked in a vault inside himself so that it doesn’t trip him up in moving forward.
He doesn’t know for certain that Wylan hasn’t followed his orders and eaten. What Kaz often does is play the odds, he covers every possibility he can conceive, to where surprises are limited in what unfolds in front of him. Therefore, from another pocket he withdraws a bag that he drops on the table. Inside is some dried meat, bread, and cheese. Simple fair that wouldn’t spoil immediately, but he gives Wylan a look that says he’ll be checking that it’s eaten within a somewhat timely manner though not right away.
On Kaz’s end, his eating habits can vary widely. Growing up first on a destitute farm then living on the streets, he knows the value of eating when he can because food is never guaranteed. At the same time, he also doesn’t bother to take pleasure in it or have a set schedule for it. Anything that won’t poison him is good enough, and he’s well known for wolfing down a meal on the go at completely random times, handfuls of something he can shovel in to and fro and be done with it. On days like today, when he’s been busy with a mission, getting paid, and tending to his crew, he hasn’t found the time for it. However, he always makes sure the Slat has a full pantry for the Dregs and he’ll get something to eat eventually from it.
If there’s one thing Kaz can do, it’s take care of himself.
Leaning on his cane, he limps to Wylan’s work table, looking over the vials though not touching them. For now. “Come up with your list yet?” Naturally, he goes to business first.