[ it's very clear that he doesn't have people in his space very often, which suits inej just fine. she's almost relieved that he picks up the coffee and makes a relatively swift exit. but then kaz pauses, and inej looks up from her bag, blinking.
truthfully, she had been planning on vacating the moment he was awake, mostly to thank him again before finding another place to stay. but offering a longer stay . . . ]
Fancy.
[ with a slight wrinkle of her nose, amused, and her hand dips into her pocket to pull out her phone, which buzzes again. a text from a different number, but likely someone who works for heleen, given the ask for money. she's starting to suspect that her heat didn't "accidentally" break after all.
she only allows herself a moment of distraction as she glances at the screen before looking back up at him, with a faint smile. ]
I won't trouble you with a longer stay; I'm sure it will be fixed in the morning. [ not likely, but. whatever. ] It is an old building, sometimes the electric isn't exactly --
[ why is she talking about this at three in the morning, and she stops herself with a faint laugh before waving a hand, returning to her phone to block the number with a touch of her fingers. ]
I guess it doesn't really matter. Sorry, I -- it's late, you should sleep. Or not sleep, and work on spreadsheets or -- [ saints, inej, shut up. ] Anyway, I appreciate it.
[ And fancy, he supposes. He likes the convenience and practicality of it. No worrying about losing a key—even though he's never lost an object in his life—or forgetting to lock the door. Which he has also never done.
Alright so maybe he's anxious.
Either way, he doesn't quite leave yet, as she checks her phone with a glance. ]
Text if you're going, I guess. [ He shrugs again, this time made awkward by the fact that he's got a hand on his cane and the other curled around the coffee cup. Part of her words niggle at him, the fact that her building is old—how old, exactly? But it is late and he doesn't feel like he should be going down that particular rabbit hole.
So he leaves her to it, disappearing out of the entry and down the hall to his room, taking a sip of coffee as he goes. She's nearly got it right, which is surprising and weird. He doesn't want to think about what that says about him or her.
Naturally, it's all he thinks about for the next hour while he lies in bed, attempting to force his brain to shut down. ]
[ his couch is way more comfortable than the pathetic excuse for a bed she has, and while inej is uncertain if she can fall asleep, she does so pretty quickly, curled into the warm blankets. she turns off her phone, willing herself to relax as she drifts off.
she leaves when he does in the morning, with her things -- and she offers him a warm smile and thanks before hopping the train back to her neck of the woods. it's still bitterly cold, but inej is hopeful (after some conversations with heleen on the way there) that her heat will be back on.
her hope is quickly dashed. and not only that, but the locks on her door have been changed. which is pretty illegal, she thinks. it takes a few moments for her to break into her own apartment and shove the rest of her belongings into her bag, leaving whatever else is there. she soon texts nina:
Heleen locked me out.
are you fing serious???? it's 10 degrees!!!
Can I stay with you?
nina, it turns out, is having issues of her own (something about matthias, who inej knows better to ask about) . . . so nina calls jesper, who then calls inej, and she winds up right back at kaz brekker's stupid penthouse suite. for some reason, he doesn't really seem to mind all that much. though inej doesn't tell him about the locks, or anything else. just that her heat is still broken. (which, incidentally, is still technically true.)
so one day turns into two, and then three, and inej has had more than one vicious conversation with heleen. she works odd hours (between the menagerie and the bar), but she's called out of work at the bar due to a sore and bruised arm. courtesy of the menagerie. easily covered by a long-sleeved shirt, which she's wearing as she sits on kaz's couch, exhausted and fiddling with her phone.
camping on this essential-stranger's couch is not a long-term solution to her (multiple) problems, and inej is loathe to bring heleen's fury to nina's doorstep. a boarding house might be an option . . . but she wouldn't be able to keep the bird. but she pushes that out of her mind to rest her head against the back of the couch, exhaling slowly as she takes a moment to relax in the silence, and being alone.
(for now, anyway. kaz is somewhere in the apartment, but he's left her alone, for the most part. which she's pretty grateful for.) ]
[ The first morning sees them walking out the door together, which is an oddity he figures won't be happening again. If her landlord has gotten the jump on fixing the heat, she'll be back in her apartment and they'll settle into their separated lives again. A blip of strangeness they won't speak of.
Except apparently her landlord is more like a slum lord and is taking her sweet time with fixing the problem. There's a possibility Inej is lying—one that he dismisses somewhat quickly, after he hears a strained conversation through the bathroom door. So here they are on day three of this awkward dance. Aside from the weirdness of having someone else in his space, he doesn't really care she's here, especially not with the weather being as frightful as it is. And she'd been honest: her bird, Lizabeta, seems more keen on singing and quietly chirping than full on screaming.
Inej herself is quiet, unobtrusive, to the point where he nearly forgets she's there, finding himself staring at a closed bathroom door and having to knock because he has to pee.
It's quiet even now, as he pulls himself out of his work feeling bleary eyed, head aching because he hasn't eaten since breakfast. Hobbling to the living room, he pokes his head in, ignoring the extremely odd thought that the curve of her neck is attractive. ]
Dinner? I'm ordering noodles. [ If she wants to lump her order in, it only makes sense to offer. Besides, it doesn't look as if she wants to go anywhere. ]
[ she straightens at the sound of his cane, glancing toward the doorway as he leans into the living room. the offer of dinner causes her to realize that she also hasn't eaten today. ]
Sure. [ she agrees, glancing toward her phone to check her venmo balance. she hadn't bothered to send heleen her rent, seeing as she was so inclined to change her locks, so she did have something, at least. ugh, what a mess. ] Whatever you want, I can send you half.
[ paying for her own food seems like a small price to pay for living in relative luxury for the last few days, and she shifts a little on the couch to face him. ]
I'm sorry, that this is such a hassle. I didn't think it would be longer than a day.
[ He asks off-handedly, after she agrees, scrolling head tipped down as he scrolls through his phone. At this point he knows the menu, but he's trying to guess what she'll like. A reversal of the coffee choice. Why it matters to get it close to right, he isn't sure.
Well okay, he just likes being right. ]
Has your landlady given you an ETA? [ It's not resentful or accusatory, he simply wants to know. Because having her here really isn't annoying, much to his surprise. Then again, it's been three days and 2/3rds of those were working days, so maybe he's being quick to judge the situation. ]
[ with a shake of her head as she returns to her phone for a moment, scrolling through her texts when he asks the next question. and she purses her lips before sighing, sounding resigned. ]
No.
[ and inej pauses, thinking to herself for a moment before sighing, getting to her feet and tossing her phone on the couch. ]
She’s angry because I owe her money. Outside of my rent, which is always paid. [ as an aside, irritated. ] I was hoping she would quit by now but she is determined to take blood from a stone.
[ and she waves it off before rubbing her forearm gingerly, drowning to herself. ]
I think I can find a new room in the neighboring building by the end of the week. So I will be out of your space by then.
[ She says she doesn't have allergies, so a few more idle taps and the order's placed. A happy completion page has an animated icon of a frying pan flipping blocks up and a timer of twenty minutes underneath. Kaz repockets his phone and is about to leave her to her business when she elaborates on her answer.
There's a long stretch of silence as he turns the words over, feeling his temper spike suddenly. ]
Your landlady refuses to fix your heat because of non-rent money you owe her? [ His brows are knit together and he is...really trying not to sound as furious as he feels. He's not sure if he's succeeding. Because Inej seems to be trying to take this in stride despite how flagrantly illegal it is for that awful woman to be doing this to her. ]
[ her own brows knit together as he responds, because he’s . . . upset. which surprises her, a little, but then again, he did let her sleep on his couch. he’s clearly not a terrible person.
but the question causes her to bite the inside of her cheek, and inej lets out a slow breath. ]
It’s — complicated.
[ and humiliating, truthfully, and she feels an odd weight in her stomach as she tries to find words. ]
I was —- [ brought here against her will and heleen essentially bought her way into the country. paid for her. and now she has a debt that doesn’t seem to be getting any smaller. ] She isn’t just —- she doesn’t just own my building.
[ and she purses her lips together before glancing toward her phone on the couch. may as well be honest, though the uncomfortable tightness in her throat almost prevents the words. why is this so hard? the opinion of some random mostly stranger doesn’t mean anything, in the long run. ]
I work for her, to pay down the debt.
[ finally. ]
She owns the Menagerie. And half the — those types of houses on in East Stave. I didn’t — I missed a payment because I refused to see a certain client, and now I’m here. So.
[ she gestures with a hand, uncomfortable and on edge. almost preemptively defensive. ]
None of that is going to attach to you, no one knows I’m here.
[ Watching her struggle through the explanation is painful in more ways than one. He's never been any good at dealing with emotions, especially not with other people involved, but he isn't heartless like Jesper claims he is. Most of the time it's easy for him to treat people with professionalism and not let them any closer.
Her story, though, reminds him too much of his own. Being taken advantage of, his family's little bit of money stolen right out of his young hands. The brother he lost in the process. Rollins, who was responsible for it all.
It's infuriating, seeing someone else in a similar position. Enough that he clears the threshold of hot anger and drops straight into something more chilly, calculated. Obviously, Inej isn't the only one affected. There's more people. Young girls, probably, considering the type of work he's getting the insinuation for.
So his sudden laugh comes out cruel, sharp. ]
Even if they did, I'd like to see her try. [ Well, he knows what he's doing tomorrow morning: looking into the Menagerie's operations. How lucky it's the weekend. ]
You got a copy of that contract? [ By all rights, she should. ]
[ the laugh startles her, and at his comment, her brow furrows. just who was this person? jesper had told her that he was (1) very smart; (2) very wealthy; and (3) relatively harmless. the last part didn't seem to track with his sudden clear focus on . . . the contract?
it was so long ago when she signed whatever heleen had put in front of her that she nearly asks him what he's talking about. but her expression shifts from slight confusion to understanding. but the understanding soon shifts into something a little more guarded, and her arms remained crossed over her chest. she doesn't move an inch. ]
I have nothing to give you for helping me. I have no money, and I don't own anything.
[ it's said a little bluntly, but since inej has lived in ketterdam, she's long since learned that nothing is free. and she isn't so desperate as to give whatever is left of herself to some stranger who (on the surface) seems kind. ]
What do you have to gain by looking through my paperwork?
[ She clams up, arms crossed and clearly guarded. Expected, if he's reading between the lines right. While he might not know her whole story, he at least knows this: Ketterdam is greedy and its people are much the same. So many are willing to step on others to get what they want and people like Inej get caught in the crossfire. ]
I don't care about payment. [ He's got enough money and could get virtually anything he wants, materially. And he isn't remotely interested in extorting her for physical favors. It actually repulses him enough that he frowns and shakes his head. ]
[ she watches him carefully, still guarded, with a careful frown on her face. she's good at reading people, and her eyes flicker over his face, his body language, how he holds himself. nothing in his posture or his inflection indicates that he's lying.
hiding the truth, maybe, but not outright lying. he doesn't mean her harm. it wouldn't give him anything but a headache, most likely, to help her. or not help her. she doesn't know what the point of looking at a contract is, other than make her feel stupid for signing it in the first place.
finally, though, inej sighs and turns toward her bag, stooping down to kneel as she sorts through her things. she eventually fishes out a manila envelope, which she opens as she stands, tugging out a few things. paperwork in ravkan, which doesn't seem to be relevant to what kaz is asking for, as inej doesn't hand it over. but she eventually pulls out a thick stack of paper, bound together, and she hands it over. ]
I could not read half of what I was signing, when I came here. It was four years ago. Maybe five. I don't remember.
[ after a moment, as she returns to folding her arms over her chest. ]
I don't know if that matters, or not. She never had it translated for me.
[ now that she's fluent in kerch, she has never bothered to go back through and read it. it felt pointless, when she had already signed it. ]
[ After a few beats, she seems to relent. Whatever she'd seen on his face had satisfied her enough to know he wasn't going to try anything untoward. A small relief, as he's been called inscrutable by more than a handful of people in his life. Jes says it all the time.
As she pulls out the stack of paper from her belongings, he limps over to take it. Sliding into the nearby armchair, he starts in on the first page, head tilted.
He does glance up, briefly, eyebrows raised in surprise. ]
You taught yourself Kerch? [ No easy feat. It's not like their pronunciations are simple.
His attention drops back to the paperwork, flipping to the next page. ]
People like her don't want their signees informed. They dress it up as opportunity and then they own you.
[ it's not the whole story. she knew some kerch, enough to get by, but it isn't her native tongue. when she was brought here, inej knew enough to barely navigate a basic conversation to buy groceries. definitely not enough to understand the magnitude of what she was now embroiled in.
so she learned. and read books, and magazines, and listened, and forced herself to talk to whatever disgusting bag of puss that came into the menagerie. she would never be taken advantage of again because she no longer understood something.
he's beginning to pour over the paperwork, and something in her itches -- curiosity, maybe. and inej moves a little closer to sit on the couch, tucking her feet underneath her. sitting next to him, sort of -- the armchair is near the couch.
most of what he says makes sense, except: ]
I knew this was not an opportunity.
[ it feels like a silly thing to admit, and inej rubs her arm a little with a frown. ]
[ He says, as he flips to the next page. Learning from reading, rather than formal schooling. Granted, her circumstances had dictated it a huge priority, but it's still an admirable thing. ]
That's the other way they get you. [ His tone isn't unkind. Actually it's inching towards sympathetic, softer than usual. It's so close to what happened with him and Jordie, with Rollins taking advantage of two young boys who didn't know any better. At the very least, they'd had fluency in Kerch—though that hadn't done them any favors.
It makes Inej's situation much more angering, though.
There's silence for a few minutes as he flips through more pages, parsing the dense text solely because he's read enough law jargon over the past decade. At this point, he could probably take the bar and pass. Halfway through a page, he stops, pointing out a section. ]
Here, this is about the debt accrual. [ He folds over the read pages, setting the stack on the arm of the chair and turning it towards her. ] It's made to sound like you'll be able to work off what's owed, but you won't. The interest on it outweighs how much you pay back.
[ he speaks as if from experience, but inej doesn't ask. instead, she watches him pour over the document, her brow furrowed, wondering what, exactly, he is trying to find . . . when he turns the contract over to her, so she can read it. and she shifts a little, to lean forward so she can see the text herself.
his explanation causes inej's eyes to flicker up toward his own, uncertain, before she looks down at the words with this new understanding. she mouths the words silently to herself as she reads before she finally settles back into the couch, looking . . . well, stunned.
she's lost track, of everything she has done for heleen in the name of paying her debt. most of what she has done has been humiliating. in the beginning, inej had been forced into working solely at the menagerie. but heleen had quickly discovered inej had other uses (and an attitude problem), and forced her into doing other work. anything was preferable to the menagerie. she would rather scrub floors for hours than deal with ten minutes of interaction with clientele of heleen's. so inej seized upon any chance she got to avoid that hell. as of late, the money hadn't been enough, and she had been forced back.
eventually, inej had just gotten herself into the mindset of survival. if she gets through this day, she is one step closer to finally seizing back control of her life and leaving this city for good. it made the days spent at the menagerie pass quicker. and her work at the bar gave her the chance to talk to people she didn't hate. like jesper, and kaz, and nina.
but if what kaz says is true: ]
So I haven't paid anything?
[ a bit numbly, as the realization washes over her, her hands settling in her lap. she normally carries herself with a steeled reserve, and maybe a little standoffishness (to some people, anyway), but right now, she looks woefully young and caught off guard. ]
[ The look on her face is concentrated, as she reads through the section he's just pointed out. It's a dense portion, with a lot of word fluff; he's given her the best distillation he can.
As she gets through that section though, it looks like her expression collapses, the realization dawning. He's given people horrible news on their finances but it's never felt this awful. Kaz isn't sure how old she is but she looks young now, fragile.
But he doesn't see the point in softening the blow. She deserves the truth, especially after being lied to. ]
Almost nothing. The wage she pays out isn't enough to close the gap— on purpose. Getting free is either a court case, which can be expensive, or the contract being bought out, which she knows is unlikely.
[ What he doesn't mention is that even if Inej managed to find a lawyer who'd be willing to do it pro bono, it was likely that her contract holder had a very tight legal defense. Purely because of this kind of nonsense. It would take years, as most litigation does, and her life would be more hellish. ]
[ she hears what he says, but it takes a moment or two to process it. the years of "work" that inej thought was whittling away her debt is useless. she's essentially just worked for free. or been abused for free, is probably the better term.
she mulls that over in her head, lets it wrap around her. and slowly, piercing through the numbness is a latent rage that has been twisting around and building in her chest for the last handful of years that she has been trapped in this city. her fingers curl into fists in her lap as she stares at them, nails digging into her palm.
the two options that kaz proposes both seem worthless. she cannot afford either of them, and there isn't any real safety in ketterdam if she disobeys heleen. again. inej is surprised, truthfully, that she hasn't found out where inej is hiding, though inej was at the menagerie today. in some attempt to get back into good graces. or to just get enough money to find another room.
now, though, it seemed pointless. there was no amount of money that would satisfy heleen, so continuing to play her game seemed pointless. if death was the price for freedom, then that sounded like a good deal, to her. there was no paying out the contract, or getting free. inej would just need to run.
where, who knows. but she wouldn't be returning to that place for another moment more. and for a moment, inej considers just . . . not showing up. but something in her, like a taunt bow string, snaps.
so she forces herself to uncurl her fingers from fists, reaching over to collect her phone, unlocking it with a swipe of her fingers as she searches for heleen's number. the motion is automatic, and inej's hands are shaking faintly as she dials, but she stops herself from actually calling. instead, she sucks in a breath, trying to place out what she wants to say . . . but she soon locks her phone again.
think, inej. because acting rashly and out of anger isn't going to get you out of this situation. and once she thinks, she realizes that she doesn't really have much of anything to prove that she's paid heleen anything. venmo transactions for rent, and the contract, and that's about it. and even if inej calls heleen and tells her to go directly fuck herself, it won't fix the problem that heleen owns the rights to inej ghafa as long as she remains in the city.
most importantly: ]
She is going to have me killed if I run.
[ finally, her voice something of a soft whisper. an admission, one that inej doesn't sound too afraid by. that option doesn't sound too bad, in the face of what her life is going to be if she continues to do as she's told. ]
[ It's crushing to watch her go from shocked and numb to furious, her small fingers curling into her palms. He's all too familiar with that kind of rage. There's a similar kind sitting at the back of his throat now, his jaw flexing from the tension of keeping it in.
As she picks up her phone and seems to debate with herself over whether she'll connect the call, he thinks over the options. It's a straightforward answer, one that seems almost uncharacteristic of him. While she thinks, he taps out an email, hitting send by the time she speaks up. ]
[ the question draws her out of her thoughts, and inej glances at him, frowning to herself before she settles back into the couch, letting the phone fall into her lap. ]
Noon, tomorrow. -- at the Menagerie. [ she amends, letting her eyes fall back into her lap. ] I was probably going to be sent home anyway, so going is pointless.
[ and inej sighs to herself before tugging up the sleeve slightly on her left arm, to show a peacock feather tattoo on her forearm, along with a set of bruises that look something like fingermarks.
and, somewhat bitterly: ]
Damaged merchandise doesn't sell. [ the words sound as if inej hears them a lot. inej drops the sleeve again, folding her arms over her middle, her expression edging from frustrated to tired. ] So I was just going to not show up to save her the trouble of the lecture on keeping my mouth shut and doing as I am told.
[ and inej shrugs lightly, offering kaz a faint smile. ]
I'm not very good at doing as I am told, so she has a speech prepared, by now.
[ Tomorrow. Unfortunately a wire wouldn't clear on a weekend, but—oh, well, she isn't going in anyway. Which sort of works out, since he wouldn't advise her to, considering the circumstances.
Of course, her reasoning has less to do with that and more to do with the dark bruising on her forearm. It makes him feel queasy and then angry, mouth pressing into a thin line and fingers curling tight around the top of his cane.
Damaged merchandise. Oh, he can't wait to talk to his lawyer on Monday. He'd already resolved to sink her employer but she just keeps adding layers and reasons to do so. ]
I see. [ Oops, that came out frosty. Attempting to reach neutral, he does get up, phone pinging that their dinner was almost here. ]
[ oh, he's . . . upset. and she watches, legs still folded underneath her on the couch, as he limps his way toward the door, and she turns slightly, resting her chin on the back of the couch to watch him. ]
I'm okay.
[ evenly enough; mostly to maintain neutrality, but also to reassure him that she's fine . . . because he cares, for some reason? who knows. it has been the most bizarre week of her life.
but she soon continues, voice a little quieter, almost thoughtful, when he comes back with their noodles, and as the bag is set on the coffee table, she turns back to face him, watching his face. ]
You are a kind person.
[ her tone is somewhat apologetic, because she had been somewhat standoffish when they first met . . . but there's clearly something about him that cares. at least enough to let her sleep here for free.
but before she says more on that, she changes the subject. ]
[ She says she's okay and he's not totally convinced. But he lets it go, not wanting to push– after all, they don't really know each other too well. He has no idea if pushing would be annoying or not.
And maybe that would put him deeper in the situation than he is already.
Their food is set on the coffee table and he takes the containers out, arranging them neatly and then folding the bag up, sticking it underneath one of the heavier bowls. He takes his seat again, popping the top off of some sesame noodles and carefully stirring them with a fork. ]
You're the only person who'd say so. [ His work certainly wouldn't describe him as such. Nor would most of the people who met him. Jes might, but he'd consider it conditional, which it typically is. Kindness in fits and starts. He's not even sure this could be counted as kindness– he's getting something out of it, after all. ]
[ in regards to people not finding kaz kind. inej knows jesper, at least, would agree. but she takes her own bowl of noodles, stirring them with a fork. they smell delicious, and somewhat spicy. perfect for a cold night.
he also tells her not to worry about the cost, which prompts a slight frown. she makes a mental note to look up the menu later to figure it out, and leave him money once she gets his venmo handle out of jesper.
instead, she continues to stir her noodles, before she says: ]
How do you know so much about people like Heleen?
[ as she twirls some noodles around her fork, moving to take her first bite. ]
You do not seem like the type of person who associates with people like her.
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timewasting2020-09-27 05:30 pm
no subject
truthfully, she had been planning on vacating the moment he was awake, mostly to thank him again before finding another place to stay. but offering a longer stay . . . ]
Fancy.
[ with a slight wrinkle of her nose, amused, and her hand dips into her pocket to pull out her phone, which buzzes again. a text from a different number, but likely someone who works for heleen, given the ask for money. she's starting to suspect that her heat didn't "accidentally" break after all.
she only allows herself a moment of distraction as she glances at the screen before looking back up at him, with a faint smile. ]
I won't trouble you with a longer stay; I'm sure it will be fixed in the morning. [ not likely, but. whatever. ] It is an old building, sometimes the electric isn't exactly --
[ why is she talking about this at three in the morning, and she stops herself with a faint laugh before waving a hand, returning to her phone to block the number with a touch of her fingers. ]
I guess it doesn't really matter. Sorry, I -- it's late, you should sleep. Or not sleep, and work on spreadsheets or -- [ saints, inej, shut up. ] Anyway, I appreciate it.
no subject
[ And fancy, he supposes. He likes the convenience and practicality of it. No worrying about losing a key—even though he's never lost an object in his life—or forgetting to lock the door. Which he has also never done.
Alright so maybe he's anxious.
Either way, he doesn't quite leave yet, as she checks her phone with a glance. ]
Text if you're going, I guess. [ He shrugs again, this time made awkward by the fact that he's got a hand on his cane and the other curled around the coffee cup. Part of her words niggle at him, the fact that her building is old—how old, exactly? But it is late and he doesn't feel like he should be going down that particular rabbit hole.
So he leaves her to it, disappearing out of the entry and down the hall to his room, taking a sip of coffee as he goes. She's nearly got it right, which is surprising and weird. He doesn't want to think about what that says about him or her.
Naturally, it's all he thinks about for the next hour while he lies in bed, attempting to force his brain to shut down. ]
no subject
she leaves when he does in the morning, with her things -- and she offers him a warm smile and thanks before hopping the train back to her neck of the woods. it's still bitterly cold, but inej is hopeful (after some conversations with heleen on the way there) that her heat will be back on.
her hope is quickly dashed. and not only that, but the locks on her door have been changed. which is pretty illegal, she thinks. it takes a few moments for her to break into her own apartment and shove the rest of her belongings into her bag, leaving whatever else is there. she soon texts nina:
Heleen locked me out.
are you fing serious???? it's 10 degrees!!!
Can I stay with you?
nina, it turns out, is having issues of her own (something about matthias, who inej knows better to ask about) . . . so nina calls jesper, who then calls inej, and she winds up right back at kaz brekker's stupid penthouse suite. for some reason, he doesn't really seem to mind all that much. though inej doesn't tell him about the locks, or anything else. just that her heat is still broken. (which, incidentally, is still technically true.)
so one day turns into two, and then three, and inej has had more than one vicious conversation with heleen. she works odd hours (between the menagerie and the bar), but she's called out of work at the bar due to a sore and bruised arm. courtesy of the menagerie. easily covered by a long-sleeved shirt, which she's wearing as she sits on kaz's couch, exhausted and fiddling with her phone.
camping on this essential-stranger's couch is not a long-term solution to her (multiple) problems, and inej is loathe to bring heleen's fury to nina's doorstep. a boarding house might be an option . . . but she wouldn't be able to keep the bird. but she pushes that out of her mind to rest her head against the back of the couch, exhaling slowly as she takes a moment to relax in the silence, and being alone.
(for now, anyway. kaz is somewhere in the apartment, but he's left her alone, for the most part. which she's pretty grateful for.) ]
no subject
Except apparently her landlord is more like a slum lord and is taking her sweet time with fixing the problem. There's a possibility Inej is lying—one that he dismisses somewhat quickly, after he hears a strained conversation through the bathroom door. So here they are on day three of this awkward dance. Aside from the weirdness of having someone else in his space, he doesn't really care she's here, especially not with the weather being as frightful as it is. And she'd been honest: her bird, Lizabeta, seems more keen on singing and quietly chirping than full on screaming.
Inej herself is quiet, unobtrusive, to the point where he nearly forgets she's there, finding himself staring at a closed bathroom door and having to knock because he has to pee.
It's quiet even now, as he pulls himself out of his work feeling bleary eyed, head aching because he hasn't eaten since breakfast. Hobbling to the living room, he pokes his head in, ignoring the extremely odd thought that the curve of her neck is attractive. ]
Dinner? I'm ordering noodles. [ If she wants to lump her order in, it only makes sense to offer. Besides, it doesn't look as if she wants to go anywhere. ]
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Sure. [ she agrees, glancing toward her phone to check her venmo balance. she hadn't bothered to send heleen her rent, seeing as she was so inclined to change her locks, so she did have something, at least. ugh, what a mess. ] Whatever you want, I can send you half.
[ paying for her own food seems like a small price to pay for living in relative luxury for the last few days, and she shifts a little on the couch to face him. ]
I'm sorry, that this is such a hassle. I didn't think it would be longer than a day.
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[ He asks off-handedly, after she agrees, scrolling head tipped down as he scrolls through his phone. At this point he knows the menu, but he's trying to guess what she'll like. A reversal of the coffee choice. Why it matters to get it close to right, he isn't sure.
Well okay, he just likes being right. ]
Has your landlady given you an ETA? [ It's not resentful or accusatory, he simply wants to know. Because having her here really isn't annoying, much to his surprise. Then again, it's been three days and 2/3rds of those were working days, so maybe he's being quick to judge the situation. ]
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[ with a shake of her head as she returns to her phone for a moment, scrolling through her texts when he asks the next question. and she purses her lips before sighing, sounding resigned. ]
No.
[ and inej pauses, thinking to herself for a moment before sighing, getting to her feet and tossing her phone on the couch. ]
She’s angry because I owe her money. Outside of my rent, which is always paid. [ as an aside, irritated. ] I was hoping she would quit by now but she is determined to take blood from a stone.
[ and she waves it off before rubbing her forearm gingerly, drowning to herself. ]
I think I can find a new room in the neighboring building by the end of the week. So I will be out of your space by then.
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There's a long stretch of silence as he turns the words over, feeling his temper spike suddenly. ]
Your landlady refuses to fix your heat because of non-rent money you owe her? [ His brows are knit together and he is...really trying not to sound as furious as he feels. He's not sure if he's succeeding. Because Inej seems to be trying to take this in stride despite how flagrantly illegal it is for that awful woman to be doing this to her. ]
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but the question causes her to bite the inside of her cheek, and inej lets out a slow breath. ]
It’s — complicated.
[ and humiliating, truthfully, and she feels an odd weight in her stomach as she tries to find words. ]
I was —- [ brought here against her will and heleen essentially bought her way into the country. paid for her. and now she has a debt that doesn’t seem to be getting any smaller. ] She isn’t just —- she doesn’t just own my building.
[ and she purses her lips together before glancing toward her phone on the couch. may as well be honest, though the uncomfortable tightness in her throat almost prevents the words. why is this so hard? the opinion of some random mostly stranger doesn’t mean anything, in the long run. ]
I work for her, to pay down the debt.
[ finally. ]
She owns the Menagerie. And half the — those types of houses on in East Stave. I didn’t — I missed a payment because I refused to see a certain client, and now I’m here. So.
[ she gestures with a hand, uncomfortable and on edge. almost preemptively defensive. ]
None of that is going to attach to you, no one knows I’m here.
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Her story, though, reminds him too much of his own. Being taken advantage of, his family's little bit of money stolen right out of his young hands. The brother he lost in the process. Rollins, who was responsible for it all.
It's infuriating, seeing someone else in a similar position. Enough that he clears the threshold of hot anger and drops straight into something more chilly, calculated. Obviously, Inej isn't the only one affected. There's more people. Young girls, probably, considering the type of work he's getting the insinuation for.
So his sudden laugh comes out cruel, sharp. ]
Even if they did, I'd like to see her try. [ Well, he knows what he's doing tomorrow morning: looking into the Menagerie's operations. How lucky it's the weekend. ]
You got a copy of that contract? [ By all rights, she should. ]
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it was so long ago when she signed whatever heleen had put in front of her that she nearly asks him what he's talking about. but her expression shifts from slight confusion to understanding. but the understanding soon shifts into something a little more guarded, and her arms remained crossed over her chest. she doesn't move an inch. ]
I have nothing to give you for helping me. I have no money, and I don't own anything.
[ it's said a little bluntly, but since inej has lived in ketterdam, she's long since learned that nothing is free. and she isn't so desperate as to give whatever is left of herself to some stranger who (on the surface) seems kind. ]
What do you have to gain by looking through my paperwork?
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I don't care about payment. [ He's got enough money and could get virtually anything he wants, materially. And he isn't remotely interested in extorting her for physical favors. It actually repulses him enough that he frowns and shakes his head. ]
Let's just call it a personal tic.
[ Well, it isn't a lie. ]
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hiding the truth, maybe, but not outright lying. he doesn't mean her harm. it wouldn't give him anything but a headache, most likely, to help her. or not help her. she doesn't know what the point of looking at a contract is, other than make her feel stupid for signing it in the first place.
finally, though, inej sighs and turns toward her bag, stooping down to kneel as she sorts through her things. she eventually fishes out a manila envelope, which she opens as she stands, tugging out a few things. paperwork in ravkan, which doesn't seem to be relevant to what kaz is asking for, as inej doesn't hand it over. but she eventually pulls out a thick stack of paper, bound together, and she hands it over. ]
I could not read half of what I was signing, when I came here. It was four years ago. Maybe five. I don't remember.
[ after a moment, as she returns to folding her arms over her chest. ]
I don't know if that matters, or not. She never had it translated for me.
[ now that she's fluent in kerch, she has never bothered to go back through and read it. it felt pointless, when she had already signed it. ]
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As she pulls out the stack of paper from her belongings, he limps over to take it. Sliding into the nearby armchair, he starts in on the first page, head tilted.
He does glance up, briefly, eyebrows raised in surprise. ]
You taught yourself Kerch? [ No easy feat. It's not like their pronunciations are simple.
His attention drops back to the paperwork, flipping to the next page. ]
People like her don't want their signees informed. They dress it up as opportunity and then they own you.
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[ it's not the whole story. she knew some kerch, enough to get by, but it isn't her native tongue. when she was brought here, inej knew enough to barely navigate a basic conversation to buy groceries. definitely not enough to understand the magnitude of what she was now embroiled in.
so she learned. and read books, and magazines, and listened, and forced herself to talk to whatever disgusting bag of puss that came into the menagerie. she would never be taken advantage of again because she no longer understood something.
he's beginning to pour over the paperwork, and something in her itches -- curiosity, maybe. and inej moves a little closer to sit on the couch, tucking her feet underneath her. sitting next to him, sort of -- the armchair is near the couch.
most of what he says makes sense, except: ]
I knew this was not an opportunity.
[ it feels like a silly thing to admit, and inej rubs her arm a little with a frown. ]
But I had no other choice.
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[ He says, as he flips to the next page. Learning from reading, rather than formal schooling. Granted, her circumstances had dictated it a huge priority, but it's still an admirable thing. ]
That's the other way they get you. [ His tone isn't unkind. Actually it's inching towards sympathetic, softer than usual. It's so close to what happened with him and Jordie, with Rollins taking advantage of two young boys who didn't know any better. At the very least, they'd had fluency in Kerch—though that hadn't done them any favors.
It makes Inej's situation much more angering, though.
There's silence for a few minutes as he flips through more pages, parsing the dense text solely because he's read enough law jargon over the past decade. At this point, he could probably take the bar and pass. Halfway through a page, he stops, pointing out a section. ]
Here, this is about the debt accrual. [ He folds over the read pages, setting the stack on the arm of the chair and turning it towards her. ] It's made to sound like you'll be able to work off what's owed, but you won't. The interest on it outweighs how much you pay back.
[ Dirty. And predatory. He hates it. ]
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his explanation causes inej's eyes to flicker up toward his own, uncertain, before she looks down at the words with this new understanding. she mouths the words silently to herself as she reads before she finally settles back into the couch, looking . . . well, stunned.
she's lost track, of everything she has done for heleen in the name of paying her debt. most of what she has done has been humiliating. in the beginning, inej had been forced into working solely at the menagerie. but heleen had quickly discovered inej had other uses (and an attitude problem), and forced her into doing other work. anything was preferable to the menagerie. she would rather scrub floors for hours than deal with ten minutes of interaction with clientele of heleen's. so inej seized upon any chance she got to avoid that hell. as of late, the money hadn't been enough, and she had been forced back.
eventually, inej had just gotten herself into the mindset of survival. if she gets through this day, she is one step closer to finally seizing back control of her life and leaving this city for good. it made the days spent at the menagerie pass quicker. and her work at the bar gave her the chance to talk to people she didn't hate. like jesper, and kaz, and nina.
but if what kaz says is true: ]
So I haven't paid anything?
[ a bit numbly, as the realization washes over her, her hands settling in her lap. she normally carries herself with a steeled reserve, and maybe a little standoffishness (to some people, anyway), but right now, she looks woefully young and caught off guard. ]
At all?
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As she gets through that section though, it looks like her expression collapses, the realization dawning. He's given people horrible news on their finances but it's never felt this awful. Kaz isn't sure how old she is but she looks young now, fragile.
But he doesn't see the point in softening the blow. She deserves the truth, especially after being lied to. ]
Almost nothing. The wage she pays out isn't enough to close the gap— on purpose. Getting free is either a court case, which can be expensive, or the contract being bought out, which she knows is unlikely.
[ What he doesn't mention is that even if Inej managed to find a lawyer who'd be willing to do it pro bono, it was likely that her contract holder had a very tight legal defense. Purely because of this kind of nonsense. It would take years, as most litigation does, and her life would be more hellish. ]
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she mulls that over in her head, lets it wrap around her. and slowly, piercing through the numbness is a latent rage that has been twisting around and building in her chest for the last handful of years that she has been trapped in this city. her fingers curl into fists in her lap as she stares at them, nails digging into her palm.
the two options that kaz proposes both seem worthless. she cannot afford either of them, and there isn't any real safety in ketterdam if she disobeys heleen. again. inej is surprised, truthfully, that she hasn't found out where inej is hiding, though inej was at the menagerie today. in some attempt to get back into good graces. or to just get enough money to find another room.
now, though, it seemed pointless. there was no amount of money that would satisfy heleen, so continuing to play her game seemed pointless. if death was the price for freedom, then that sounded like a good deal, to her. there was no paying out the contract, or getting free. inej would just need to run.
where, who knows. but she wouldn't be returning to that place for another moment more. and for a moment, inej considers just . . . not showing up. but something in her, like a taunt bow string, snaps.
so she forces herself to uncurl her fingers from fists, reaching over to collect her phone, unlocking it with a swipe of her fingers as she searches for heleen's number. the motion is automatic, and inej's hands are shaking faintly as she dials, but she stops herself from actually calling. instead, she sucks in a breath, trying to place out what she wants to say . . . but she soon locks her phone again.
think, inej. because acting rashly and out of anger isn't going to get you out of this situation. and once she thinks, she realizes that she doesn't really have much of anything to prove that she's paid heleen anything. venmo transactions for rent, and the contract, and that's about it. and even if inej calls heleen and tells her to go directly fuck herself, it won't fix the problem that heleen owns the rights to inej ghafa as long as she remains in the city.
most importantly: ]
She is going to have me killed if I run.
[ finally, her voice something of a soft whisper. an admission, one that inej doesn't sound too afraid by. that option doesn't sound too bad, in the face of what her life is going to be if she continues to do as she's told. ]
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As she picks up her phone and seems to debate with herself over whether she'll connect the call, he thinks over the options. It's a straightforward answer, one that seems almost uncharacteristic of him. While she thinks, he taps out an email, hitting send by the time she speaks up. ]
When's your next shift?
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Noon, tomorrow. -- at the Menagerie. [ she amends, letting her eyes fall back into her lap. ] I was probably going to be sent home anyway, so going is pointless.
[ and inej sighs to herself before tugging up the sleeve slightly on her left arm, to show a peacock feather tattoo on her forearm, along with a set of bruises that look something like fingermarks.
and, somewhat bitterly: ]
Damaged merchandise doesn't sell. [ the words sound as if inej hears them a lot. inej drops the sleeve again, folding her arms over her middle, her expression edging from frustrated to tired. ] So I was just going to not show up to save her the trouble of the lecture on keeping my mouth shut and doing as I am told.
[ and inej shrugs lightly, offering kaz a faint smile. ]
I'm not very good at doing as I am told, so she has a speech prepared, by now.
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Of course, her reasoning has less to do with that and more to do with the dark bruising on her forearm. It makes him feel queasy and then angry, mouth pressing into a thin line and fingers curling tight around the top of his cane.
Damaged merchandise. Oh, he can't wait to talk to his lawyer on Monday. He'd already resolved to sink her employer but she just keeps adding layers and reasons to do so. ]
I see. [ Oops, that came out frosty. Attempting to reach neutral, he does get up, phone pinging that their dinner was almost here. ]
Do you want some ice for that?
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I'm okay.
[ evenly enough; mostly to maintain neutrality, but also to reassure him that she's fine . . . because he cares, for some reason? who knows. it has been the most bizarre week of her life.
but she soon continues, voice a little quieter, almost thoughtful, when he comes back with their noodles, and as the bag is set on the coffee table, she turns back to face him, watching his face. ]
You are a kind person.
[ her tone is somewhat apologetic, because she had been somewhat standoffish when they first met . . . but there's clearly something about him that cares. at least enough to let her sleep here for free.
but before she says more on that, she changes the subject. ]
How much were the noodles?
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And maybe that would put him deeper in the situation than he is already.
Their food is set on the coffee table and he takes the containers out, arranging them neatly and then folding the bag up, sticking it underneath one of the heavier bowls. He takes his seat again, popping the top off of some sesame noodles and carefully stirring them with a fork. ]
You're the only person who'd say so. [ His work certainly wouldn't describe him as such. Nor would most of the people who met him. Jes might, but he'd consider it conditional, which it typically is. Kindness in fits and starts. He's not even sure this could be counted as kindness– he's getting something out of it, after all. ]
Don't worry about it.
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[ in regards to people not finding kaz kind. inej knows jesper, at least, would agree. but she takes her own bowl of noodles, stirring them with a fork. they smell delicious, and somewhat spicy. perfect for a cold night.
he also tells her not to worry about the cost, which prompts a slight frown. she makes a mental note to look up the menu later to figure it out, and leave him money once she gets his venmo handle out of jesper.
instead, she continues to stir her noodles, before she says: ]
How do you know so much about people like Heleen?
[ as she twirls some noodles around her fork, moving to take her first bite. ]
You do not seem like the type of person who associates with people like her.
[ scumbags and thieves, anyway. ]
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