[ the warning is heard loud and clear, and inej purses her lips together. there is a pecking order, in this life, and inej has no problem lying through her teeth in order to survive. she's done so until today, and she'll likely continue to do so tomorrow. but she has little patience, for people who take credit for things that aren't their own.
it's clear, even after a week, that the dregs see kaz as the one in charge. haskell is the one who signs the checks, which carries its own power. but they don't fear him, like they fear kaz. and fear can sometimes turn into respect.
she lets her eyes flicker toward kaz as he stretches, lost in thought at his statement. her eyes land on his rolled up sleeves, showing a tattoo - the symbol of the dregs, she assumes. the thought of getting another tattoo turns her stomach, an icy feeling working its way through her veins.
she had had to be held down, for the peacock feather on her forearm. it still turns her stomach, whenever she looks at it.
but, more importantly, are the words along his wrist that peak through as the leather of his gloves shift. plain as day, i can help you. a confirmation of what she already knew, and she self-consciously tugs her sleeve straighter on her arm, to make sure her wrist is covered.
she had prayed for a way out, and the saints provided. it must be fate, her being here. and her destiny is intertwined with the boy at the desk filling in a spreadsheet of his own design, keeping track of profit margins that made absolutely no sense to her.
was this the entire reason why she was stolen? to wind up here, to meet him? was there really a purpose to the nightmare of the menagerie, or was she just lucky? ]
Most people don't notice that I exist.
[ she says finally, letting her eyes move back toward the crow in the window. ignore it, inej. ]
I doubt he'll remember my name, just the total at the end of the bill.
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Date: 2020-12-28 11:31 pm (UTC)it's clear, even after a week, that the dregs see kaz as the one in charge. haskell is the one who signs the checks, which carries its own power. but they don't fear him, like they fear kaz. and fear can sometimes turn into respect.
she lets her eyes flicker toward kaz as he stretches, lost in thought at his statement. her eyes land on his rolled up sleeves, showing a tattoo - the symbol of the dregs, she assumes. the thought of getting another tattoo turns her stomach, an icy feeling working its way through her veins.
she had had to be held down, for the peacock feather on her forearm. it still turns her stomach, whenever she looks at it.
but, more importantly, are the words along his wrist that peak through as the leather of his gloves shift. plain as day, i can help you. a confirmation of what she already knew, and she self-consciously tugs her sleeve straighter on her arm, to make sure her wrist is covered.
she had prayed for a way out, and the saints provided. it must be fate, her being here. and her destiny is intertwined with the boy at the desk filling in a spreadsheet of his own design, keeping track of profit margins that made absolutely no sense to her.
was this the entire reason why she was stolen? to wind up here, to meet him? was there really a purpose to the nightmare of the menagerie, or was she just lucky? ]
Most people don't notice that I exist.
[ she says finally, letting her eyes move back toward the crow in the window. ignore it, inej. ]
I doubt he'll remember my name, just the total at the end of the bill.
[ which suits her just fine. ]