[ in ketterdam, the gangsters — not merchers — wear colour. rich tones, like what marisa coulter wears now, though not in the same, refined manner. there’s a similarity in the gesture; that’s all. hiding in plain sight or not hiding at all. no fear of attention, to be sure.
kaz joins her table in his usual layers of blacks, apart from his coat and hat, left in his office. angles his chair out, extending his bad leg, like he might leave at any moment. his gaze flits from her to a boisterous table nearby and back.
he folds his gloved hands over the glinting topper of his cane, head tilting to one side. ]
I heard a rumour… [ rasp measured and even, brows faintly arched. ] that you’ve asked after me.
[ and since she’s here, he can only assume she received a clear answer regarding his whereabouts and proclivities. ]
smashes champagne
kaz joins her table in his usual layers of blacks, apart from his coat and hat, left in his office. angles his chair out, extending his bad leg, like he might leave at any moment. his gaze flits from her to a boisterous table nearby and back.
he folds his gloved hands over the glinting topper of his cane, head tilting to one side. ]
I heard a rumour… [ rasp measured and even, brows faintly arched. ] that you’ve asked after me.
[ and since she’s here, he can only assume she received a clear answer regarding his whereabouts and proclivities. ]