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KAZ BREKKER WAS FEAR IN A FINE SUIT. It was fear in the way he walked, the heavy chime of his cane against the floors. It was fear in the way he looked, an unnerving ferocity in his eye; impossible to know what his thoughts could be. It was fear in the way he talked, his voice never raised nor lowered even an octave, each word was final and one would do well to hang onto every last one.
As not advised, Kryia only barely hung onto his words, in fact they had blurred together all at once. She was far too disconcerted by the shine of blood on her hand, and a crow cane wedged after it. This blood was fresh, unlike the stained wood floor or the murky shine on the bar glasses. She hoped it belonged to Pekka. She hoped Kaz had driven the cane through his skull, just so she wouldn't have to. After all, she was a Grisha that had killed too much in Sinika's name but more than that, she was a killer that did not enjoy playing a butcher.
"I prefer not to spend dirty money on my luxuries." She replied at last. Her gaze remained on the cane and not the man behind her. He hadn't yet seen her face.
He huffed mockingly, "A shame." The cane drifted to beneath her chin, the silver nestled on her maskless face.
"People tend not to notice the filth when they become blind to it all." She tried to adjust her head upward by instinct, but the beak of the cane hooked and now dug into the soft flesh of her cheek. It was sharp, akin to Grisha steel – this was made by a Fabrikator, she concluded, but that was the least of her worries.
"People like you?" She taunted.
"Yes, Sokolov." Kaz breathed, and slowly the cane turned her head until they were eye to eye. "People like me." He clicked his tongue. Her teeth sank into her cheek,, her fingers digging into the wood in the quietest rage. She could see it in his quirked brow and ghostly smirk; he was marvelling at her face, a secret now unlocked and added to his arsenal.
