𝕬𝖗𝖘𝖔𝖓𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖘 𝕷𝖚𝖑𝖑𝖆𝖇𝖞 - [𝗞𝗮𝘇 𝗕𝗿𝗲𝗸𝗸𝗲𝗿]

𝐢𝐢𝐢. 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘣𝘪𝘳𝘥

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 — pretty bird

━━━━━━━

 𝐓𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐑𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍 the distance and shook the weak foundations of the building as Aleksa settled herself behind Kaz's desk. Behind her, the DeKapple they'd stolen together was hung up high, a magnificent piece of artwork on display as their very own trophy.

 Inej had questioned Aleksa about the painting on the very night she and Kaz had managed to return with it, the Suli girl — no matter how impressed she might have been — only showed Aleksa her disapproval. She had clucked like a mother hen as she told Aleksa, "You should have taken me or Jesper too! Going with just the two of you was dangerous."

 Aleksa — against her better judgement — had, of course, made a comment along the lines of, "I'm terribly sorry mother dear, how long am I to be grounded for this time?"

 This had earned her a swift slap to the arm from the Wraith's surprisingly strong hands.

 Pieces of parchment lay in disarray upon Kaz's desk; he'd clearly left them in favour of seeking out his patrons and Crows. There were lists of things the club, as well as the Slat, needed for the week. Stock lists, outgoing coin as well as the coin that had been made. All things that the old man, Per Haskell, should have been keeping an eye on... and yet...

 Per Haskell was the owner of the Crow Club, the man who held the keys in the palm of his hand. If you were to ask Aleksa what she thought of the man, she'd laugh, toss her hair over her shoulder and follow up with a scowl as she named the man a fool. The Dregs had been weak, unruly until Kaz Brekker gained his shares of the club. 

 Per Haskell might have owned the place, but certainly didn't run it. 

 Aleksa had never found out when, or why, Kaz had come to Haskell instead of seeking out some other gang. At the time — according to Kaz that is — the Dregs were nothing in Ketterdam. mere barrel rats with nothing going for them. He had risen through the ranks, quickly surpassing those who'd been there for years until he'd managed to secure his share. Fifteen percent of the club was Kaz's... But that wasn't enough.

 You'd have been lucky — or unlucky, as Aleksa would have called you — if you'd caught sight of Per Haskell, for the old fool tucked himself away in his office with his model boats and murky pints of lager. Aleksa could have counted on a single hand how many times she'd actually conversed with her so-called boss. 

 The Crows answered to Kaz, Per Haskell was merely a facade. He acted loud and proud of the Crow Club. He ranted and raved about his success, but everybody — patrons, Crows and Dregs — knew that he had little to do with the flocks of pigeons that bombarded the club. The success was all thanks to Kaz, and everybody knew it.