Chapter Text
Jesper Fahey had never been an over-thinker.
Don’t get him wrong—he thought plenty. He thought about his father, his revolvers, the exact process by which waffles were made. He thought about thinking and about the dreadful weather in Ketterdam. He also thought about a certain merchling (was he a merchant now? He was on the council.) rather a lot.
Jesper thought, yes, but he never overthought. At least not usually.
Today, there was an unease roiling through him. It had been a while since he’d felt the itch for a gunfight, the longing for the calm of knowing you could die. He’d been letting his nerves soothe by Fabrikating little things instead, bleeding the color from scraps of fabric onto random surfaces—a table, a silver vase, and once, memorably, Wylan’s left arm and both eyebrows. There was an odd tranquility that came with using your Grisha powers.
Except today. Today, he needed the thrill of the chase, the jolt of delight that accompanied terror. Because today, Wylan was out doing merchant stuff and Inej was out doing pirate stuff and Nina was out doing whatever it was that queens of Fjerda did, and Jesper had run out of things to Fabrikate and people to annoy and excuses to stay away from the tables.
It was this last one that had him walking back down a path he had abandoned long ago—the road to the Slat.
Well, maybe not abandoned. He and Wylan visited more than often, mainly so that Kaz wouldn’t have a reason to come to the Van Eck mansion under the guise of reacquaintance when he really needed them for a job. Jesper also had the habit of accidentally ending up at the Slat when he wasn’t supposed to, and if he was honest, he did miss it a little. So no, the path wasn’t abandoned, but the thought that it was had some rather enjoyable drama to it, so he was going to go with it. It was the thought that counted, anyway.
Stepping inside, he shut the door quickly behind him, trying not to draw attention. He wasn’t Inej—he couldn’t disappear entirely, make himself part of the shadows—but he could try to go unnoticed, and besides, he’d taken all the proper precautions. He’d even worn all black.
Making his way quickly up the stairs, Jesper ducked away from staggering members of the Dregs, pulling his hat lower over his head. One would’ve thought that after officially taking control of the gang, Kaz would’ve made some adjustments, less on the side of chaos and more on the side of order. But Jesper wasn’t entirely sure why he’d expected that. Even when the old man was in office, everyone had known that it was Dirtyhands who pulled all the strings. And though he always appeared as collected as could be, Jesper had had cause to wonder whether Kaz, gifted with symmetry, had a taste for the other thing.
Finally reaching the attic—this floor was quite deserted, with Kaz’s office being the only thing there—he knocked once on the door, then swung it open without waiting for a reply.
Kaz sat at his desk as usual, pen in hand and paper everywhere else, slitting his eyes upward to glare at him. Jesper waved brightly, kicking the door shut and flinging himself into an armchair opposite the desk. “What’s good, boss?”
Kaz sighed, dropping the pen into the inkwell with an audible plink. “I’m not your boss anymore, Jesper. What business?”
Jesper raised a brow, kicking off his shoes and propping his feet up on the desk. “Does there need to be business for me to see my best friend?”
Reaching over and picking up his cane, Kaz used it to push Jesper’s feet off the desk. “Alright. Please, Jesper, my dearest friend, the light of my life, what business would you like me to attend to before I throw you out of the Slat?”
“There’s no business.” Jesper wondered momentarily if he should put his feet up again, then decided not to. “I was bored.”
“Well, I’m not. I have work to do.” Kaz rested two gloved fingers on his pen, then paused. “Can’t you go piss someone else off?”
“Nope. Everyone else adores me.” Jesper wiggled a finger in his direction. “You adore me too.”
“I don’t see the point you’re trying to make here.”
Jesper sat up straight, a grin spreading over his face. “You didn’t deny it!”
Kaz rolled his eyes. “I tolerate you. There’s a difference.”
“Coming from you, that’s basically adoration.” Jesper reached over, picking up a sheet of paper that was promptly snatched back. “What work are you doing anyway? For the scariest guy in the Barrel, you sure do a lot of paperwork.”
Kaz put the sheet of paper back neatly, cutting him a glare. “It’s paper that rules the world. What is money made of? Paper. What are borders marked by? Paper.”
“You can’t eat paper,” Jesper pointed out. “Trust me, I’ve tried.”
Kaz gave him a look that was a cross between resignation and amusement. “Please don’t tell me why you’ve tried that.”
“Well, a couple years ago, Inej and I were daring each other to–”
“I refuse to believe you’ve made Inej eat paper.” Kaz leaned back in his chair, his tie slightly askew. Once, long ago, Jesper had been thrilled at the ease with which Kaz presented himself with him, not quite comfort but something close to it. He’d had a game he used to play with himself, collecting false insinuations, finding meanings in gestures that had none. But now, he had Wylan, and Kaz had Inej, and he was more than happy being his friend.
“I didn’t make Inej eat paper,” Jesper conceded. “She made me eat paper. I made her eat crackers dipped in cheese and maple syrup.”
Kaz drew his brows closer. “That’s disgusting.”
“The paper was worse.” Jesper shuddered. “I’m sure someone had puked all over it at some point.”
“That isn’t very… hygienic. Did you really want to die of someone else’s vomit?”
Jesper shrugged. “Vomit, gunfight. What’s the difference?”
Kaz snorted. “I’m going to quote you on that the next time you talk about your precious revolvers.” He had started sorting the countless sheaves of paper into piles. “Try not to eat vomit in the future. I’d rather not lose you like that. There are far better ways to go out.”
I’d rather not lose you like that.
Someone I trusted. Someone I didn’t want to lose.
Jesper felt the itch, momentarily suspended, return. “Can I ask you a question?”