[ she already misses him when he steps out of her space, his fingers brushing hers. she watches him limp to his room for a moment before she pushes herself up onto her feet to follow after him, shoulder leaning against the doorframe. ]
Good idea, maybe.
[ though she can't deny that keeping him here and having him sleep is the best idea. but that is a war she is not going to win. though, as kaz picks out a fresh shirt and begins to (gingerly) shrug into it, she straightens up to step into his room properly. ]
Come here.
[ she murmurs, as she reaches out to tug his shirt a little straighter, beginning to button it up. the movement more efficient, and it would prevent kaz from moving his arms too much. it puts them much closer again, but inej keeps herself focused on the task. though she's sorely tempted to kiss him again.
maybe later. but as she thinks about that, another thought pops into her head, and inej says (as she buttons, ever pragmatic): ]
Maybe. [ His answer is amused, as he pulls a shirt out and sets his cane aside to pull it on. He can feel her eyes on his back, though he's attempting to ignore the stare in favor of getting dressed.
It's a slow process, since he lifts his arm up too quickly on the first go, inhaling sharply at the sudden pain along his side. The second try is slightly better, though the aggravated bruises are throbbing under the bandage. Eventually, he gets both shirtsleeves on and is bracing himself to straighten the collar out.
Inej solves that for him, instead, her small fingers sliding under the collar to make it lie flat. She tugs the front straight, palms smoothing over the material to rid it of creases. He wants nothing more than to lean into it, feeling a sudden and dizzy rush of warmth. Instead, he remains still, letting her finish with the buttons. ]
In a minute. [ The final touch, after he makes sure he's at least presentable with his clothes. At the moment, he's a bit distracted thinking about how this resembles something out of a dream.
When his shirt's buttoned, he ticks the tails in carefully and then pulls on a coat with the same measured pace. It would be relatively easy to get a healer to deal with this, but he needs people to believe the fight happened here. ]
[ he's in pain. she can tell, by the movement of his arms, how slowly it takes him to tug on his coat. but inej allows him the space to do so, carefully watching for an opportunity to help. she finds one in straightening his coat, tugging it a bit firmer around his shoulders, smoothing out the fabric against his sides.
saints, she wants nothing more than to stay in the attic and pretend the world outside doesn't exist. but they need to get back to nina, matthias, jesper, wylan. everyone crammed into the geldrunner, waiting for the next move. so she sighs to herself, turning to collect kaz's cane and gloves, thinking out loud to herself: ]
You should be able to go through the back alleys, now. It would be quicker, safer than injuring yourself on the rooftops. [ with the added bonus that inej would be watching his back from above, ready to drop whoever came near him with a well-placed throw of her blade. ] Or I'll come with you, the longer way.
[ she can at least be there to pull him up when he lands. and, without looking up from her task of finding his gloves, she says: ]
[ She steps into his space again when she tugs his coat straight, making sure the lapels laid flat and the shoulders weren't bunched up. It's harder to feel the warmth of her hands through two layers but the pressure is enough. Really, he shouldn't like it, not after the beating he took—everything aches.
He craves it, though, despite everything. Feels that same urge to let her keep going, to fold himself in towards her and shut out the rest of everything.
There's work to be done, however. And Kaz Brekker does not leave loose ends. ]
I'll take the alleys. [ Now that the Dregs are squared away, he won't have to dodge Haskell's ire. There are other gangs but he and Inej know the paths that will circumvent their territories. Or will at least let them pass mostly unnoticed.
At her sharp reminder, he nearly sighs, going to pick the jar of salve back up again. Limping over to the small mirror near his dresser, he carefully applies some of the balm to his face, wincing occasionally when his fingers pass over a cut. It stings worse than the ones on his chest—face wounds always did. ]
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Good idea, maybe.
[ though she can't deny that keeping him here and having him sleep is the best idea. but that is a war she is not going to win. though, as kaz picks out a fresh shirt and begins to (gingerly) shrug into it, she straightens up to step into his room properly. ]
Come here.
[ she murmurs, as she reaches out to tug his shirt a little straighter, beginning to button it up. the movement more efficient, and it would prevent kaz from moving his arms too much. it puts them much closer again, but inej keeps herself focused on the task. though she's sorely tempted to kiss him again.
maybe later. but as she thinks about that, another thought pops into her head, and inej says (as she buttons, ever pragmatic): ]
You still need to put salve on your face.
[ just in case he forgot. ]
no subject
It's a slow process, since he lifts his arm up too quickly on the first go, inhaling sharply at the sudden pain along his side. The second try is slightly better, though the aggravated bruises are throbbing under the bandage. Eventually, he gets both shirtsleeves on and is bracing himself to straighten the collar out.
Inej solves that for him, instead, her small fingers sliding under the collar to make it lie flat. She tugs the front straight, palms smoothing over the material to rid it of creases. He wants nothing more than to lean into it, feeling a sudden and dizzy rush of warmth. Instead, he remains still, letting her finish with the buttons. ]
In a minute. [ The final touch, after he makes sure he's at least presentable with his clothes. At the moment, he's a bit distracted thinking about how this resembles something out of a dream.
When his shirt's buttoned, he ticks the tails in carefully and then pulls on a coat with the same measured pace. It would be relatively easy to get a healer to deal with this, but he needs people to believe the fight happened here. ]
no subject
saints, she wants nothing more than to stay in the attic and pretend the world outside doesn't exist. but they need to get back to nina, matthias, jesper, wylan. everyone crammed into the geldrunner, waiting for the next move. so she sighs to herself, turning to collect kaz's cane and gloves, thinking out loud to herself: ]
You should be able to go through the back alleys, now. It would be quicker, safer than injuring yourself on the rooftops. [ with the added bonus that inej would be watching his back from above, ready to drop whoever came near him with a well-placed throw of her blade. ] Or I'll come with you, the longer way.
[ she can at least be there to pull him up when he lands. and, without looking up from her task of finding his gloves, she says: ]
Salve.
[ fix your damn face already. ]
no subject
He craves it, though, despite everything. Feels that same urge to let her keep going, to fold himself in towards her and shut out the rest of everything.
There's work to be done, however. And Kaz Brekker does not leave loose ends. ]
I'll take the alleys. [ Now that the Dregs are squared away, he won't have to dodge Haskell's ire. There are other gangs but he and Inej know the paths that will circumvent their territories. Or will at least let them pass mostly unnoticed.
At her sharp reminder, he nearly sighs, going to pick the jar of salve back up again. Limping over to the small mirror near his dresser, he carefully applies some of the balm to his face, wincing occasionally when his fingers pass over a cut. It stings worse than the ones on his chest—face wounds always did. ]