[ she finishes her sandwich, chasing it with a long drink of cold water, though her lips curve upward as she drinks, given his you usually are. she supposes that much is true, though she knows (in the moment of disagreement, anyway) kaz is loathe to admit it.

there's a soft snort, though, at kaz's defense of dekappel, restopping the bottle of water to prevent it from spilling. ]

Even the greatest artists sometimes have little taste.

[ though, in her opinion, dekappel's work is . . . stuffy and suffocating, for her taste. but then again, it is very kerch. no wonder they liked his art so much. it's just as boring as they are. present company (mostly) excluded, of course.

she does feel better, with some food and water in her. she wants to finish off the food in the bag, but knows it needs to settle, first. so she sets the food aside, resuming her position tucked against his side, looping her arms around his waist. he's comfortable, warm, and most importantly, safe. no one would hurt her, here.

she's quiet for a moment or two, letting herself relax before she exhales slowly. ]

I knew he was terrible, and selfish, and cruel. Most men in this city are. [ especially the rich ones. and given wylan's preference to live in poverty with the rest of them than stay in his merch manor . . . well, here they are. ] But I didn't think he was a monster.

[ there are few people that inej would rather be dead than given a second chance. jan van eck is now one of those people. ]