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Jesper Fahey was on his way to get his ass handed to him. He’d been late to the job tonight because the cards had been singing his name.
He actually won a few Saints blessed rounds before his luck turned. He lost it all, as he so often did but he’d been so engrossed he lost track of time.
Kaz needed him to set off some alarms outside some mercher’s house and he was late. He did get there and set off the alarms but he knew the extra minutes it took to get there would be enough to put Kaz Brekker in more of a mood than he already was on every other day.
The man walked around, permanently sour, permanently pissed, and permanently lethal.
Jesper had been with the Dregs long enough to know he liked Kaz, probably more than was safe or sane. The only inkling he had, that Kaz might like him at all was the fact that he wasn’t dead yet, in spite of this being the third time this month Jesper had been late to a job.
Dirtyhands would probably kill lesser men for less.
Lucky for Jesper he was one of the best sharpshooters in the Barrel and he was handsome to boot.
(Although admittedly he didn’t think that was a factor that swayed Kaz)
So that evening he was taking the long way back to The Slat, because he wasn’t looking forward to the lashing Kaz was likely to give him when he arrived.
So he took long, easy strides. He didn’t need to pass by Fifth Harbor, but he decided he wanted a nice bit of sea breeze this evening. Maybe the wind would finally knock a bit of sense into him, since Jesper knew he needed a bit more sense.
Or a bit more luck.
He wasn’t sure which.
But he continued down the harbor when a splashing, yelping sound off the dock made him stop.
He turned in time to see two moon pale hands reach up out of the water and cling to the edge of the dock just a few feet away from him.
Jesper stared, too surprised to do something useful like help.
The night air was freezing, and the waters of Fifth Harbor stank of fish and salt. Nobody was swimming tonight for pleasure.
As he watched, those hands clutched and clambered and soon the rest of a boy around his age appeared, slopping onto the dock like a half drowned animal.
His curls were a ruddy copper and stuck to his forehead, and his clothes looked expensive.
Jesper frowned at the incongruity, but still didn’t move.
Suddenly the boy was on his feet and looking right at Jesper.
The lights of the harbor shone bright enough for Jesper to make out wide blue eyes, a reckless splash of freckles, and the bruises around his neck.
“Are you…?” Jesper began, entirely unsure of how to end that sentence.
The boy blinked, his eyes moving in every direction, looking at Jesper, the harbor, a nearby alley.
He looked like he was checking for escape routes.
Jesper slowly raised his hands in the air, “Hey uh...I’m not trying to…” he took a step closer and the boy, shaking from head to toe, took a step back.
Jesper pressed his lips together, uncertain of how to proceed.
He wasn’t out to adopt a charity case tonight, he had enough on his plate, and if he took much longer getting to the Slat, Kaz was sure to harangue him for that too.
But the boy looked cold and he looked scared.
Jesper was too soft hearted sometimes.
“Look I uh…” he lowered his hands and began to shoulder out of his long coat. It was a nice coat, but he had others.
He took it off and held it out at arms length not taking another step closer.
“You look like you could use this.”
The boy’s ocean eyes looked between him and the coat.
“Go on kid,” he shook it once, “You’re not gonna find much charity in the Barrel and I’ve got places to be.”
The boy took it and then took another step back before shrugging it on slowly, clearly he was trying to be careful around some injury.
“Thanks,” he said, his voice soft but bruised. Jesper nodded once, unsure of how to respond to such sincerity. The coat was too big on him, he looked like a bedraggled kitten in a blanket and Jesper could not waste anymore time worrying about every sob story in the Barrel.
“You’re welcome, but I gotta run,” Jesper took a step back, “Try not to get killed, it would be a waste of a good coat.”
With that he bolted because along with a lack of sense, Jesper lacked manners, and the ability to react like a normal human being when stumbling across sad, beautiful boys at Fifth Harbor.
Kaz did indeed tear him a new one. Then about a month later Jesper was told to pick up a potential new demo man for The Dregs.
“What’s wrong with Raske?” Jesper had asked and Kaz simply rolled his eyes and handed Jesper a sealed envelope.
“Just deliver it Jesper.”
Of course Jesper wasn’t expecting to see that boy with moon pale skin and the ocean eyes when he asked to be directed towards Wylan Hendricks at the stinking clothing factory.
“Wylan?” he asked and that familiar face with the familiar freckles looked up to meet his.
Jesper couldn’t help a smirk has he said, “Well at least you didn’t waste my coat.”
Wylan's slow, but sunshine bright smile in return was like an arrow to the heart, or a nail in the coffin.
Jesper Fahey really had no sense and no luck to speak of.