Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Kaz has monopolised the coffee pot. At 8am. On a Monday. The Bastard.

I mean, granted, he has probably been here for 4 hours by now, but that is no excuse for this. I mean, I have a Drama class first period with 12 year olds. I deserve that coffee!

“Jes?” To that, naturally, I scream. How does she do that? Like a damn Wraith when she wants to be, Inej. She graciously gives me a second or two to stop screaming. “You are staring at the pot like you want to shoot it or kiss it. Which one is it?”

“Fair to say that I would shoot Kaz, kiss the pot and marry you if you can get it off him?” I allow myself one hopeful smile and a mournful glance at the coffee, before I register Inej shaking her head at me.

“I’ll try, if you promise to never say that that again. The marrying part – I’m on board with shooting Kaz.”

“Shooting Kaz?” Nina collapses on the couch next to Inej. “I’m down.”

“No reason needed huh?”

“Builds character. He’d be fine.” Inej giggles.

“He would probably scold you for missing his head Neens.”

Kaz looks up from the neat pile of books stacked on the table he has also kindly co-opted: “I can hear you bitching about me, you know.” Nina bats her eyelashes in a way that is lost on everyone in the room.

“Of course we know, it would be no fun otherwise!” She admonishes her sort-of boss cheerfully, then leaps to her feet. “You might want to be nice to me Kazzie, as I just perfected my waffle recipe…”

Inej, like a goddess of grace and also waffles, lifts the box out of our best friend’s hand and comes to a stop by the table. “You can have one if you give up the coffee pot.” Nina, I’m pretty sure, is complaining about this.

“Why, darling Inej, would I do that, when I could get my own waffles, without having to give up anything.”

“You want us to believe you will go off campus for waffles you could get right now, for the cost of only one coffee pot?”

“One cup.”

“Five.”

“One.”

“The pot.”

“Three?” I offer. This would be more entertaining if I was more awake to enjoy. I get matching glares for my troubles. I guess this means that this wasn’t a communal haggle. Good to know.

I’m pretty sure that Nina has a coffee machine somewhere, if her grin is anything to go by. “Four cups for one waffle and my 2nd favourite marking pen for one week.”

“Sankta Alina?”

“Sankta Alina.”

“The deal is the deal.” Oh thank Ghezen. It’s nearly half past already. I inch forward, like you would an angry dog or a scheming Kaz.

I don’t feel too bad, my day is going to suck. I have the littlest people for Drama, and the biggest ones for English. If I didn’t love Inej, I would refuse to do GCSE English. At least she gives me the plays. Handsome thespian is a Jesper talent, after all.

But Mondays demand that, before classes, we must sit through Haskell's monologue about teaching 'back in the day', and how these 'damn computers' make us overprivileged. Thank Ghezen for Inej and her coffee wrangling ways. If I had to hear that 'this school used to be great before those phones' without coffee, I think I would have been fired. Everyone knows the school sucks because of Van Eck's budget cuts and the damn Dime Lion's appropriation of resources.

Damn, I sounded like Kaz for a sec there. I didn't know I cared that much.

Anyway, thank Inej's Saints for crime. Oh, that is probably blasphemy. Oops. But knowing that my twin pistols wiil be put to good use again is pretty much the only thing getting me through Haskell's monotone. I don't know how Kaz does it. But that is probably why he is the boss, and I am but a humble actor-turned teacher.

Oh, speak of the devil. This seems to be important. "Thanks Sir. Now, as I am sure you are aware, Bollinger in Science is no longer with us -" That's because Kaz scared the shit out of him for working for The Competition. I was there! It was awesome. "- and his replacement will be here tomorrow. Mr Hendricks. Play nice, you arseholes." A titter went up around the group. Ketterdam isn't nice. Brekker would tell you that himself. "As for P.E., apparently that is a priority again? Something Van Eck said or something. So, lucky for you, that means that you don't have to take it in turns to freeze anymore. Mr Matthias Helvar is transferring in from Fjerda. Nina, I imagine you and Specht should meet with him next week to talk languages."

"Is that a pun Brekker?"

"That depends Rotty, want to keep your fingers?"

"Fair enough."

"He arrives later today. Nothing else. Inej, come see me before period 2."

Bossy bastard.

Chapter Text

The new P.E teacher from Fjerda could be interesting. Wasn’t able to dig up much on him, politics and bureaucracy and all. But the Van Eck kid? Easy.

Only child, fresh out of training, tentatively gay and a chemistry and art prodigy (a fun mix of you ask Nina or Jes, irrelevant if you ask Kaz).

Speaking of the devil, I’m outside his office. I don’t have the time to find out about the new Fjerdan. I have a marking list as long as Sankt Vladimir and parent teacher meetings in a week. The door opens, with Kaz stepping into his office, unsurprisingly unmoved by my presence there.

“Wraith.” Always one for the pet names.

“Kaz. We have five minutes at most.” A nod. Good to know he’s communicative, I guess.

“Tail the Fjerdan.” Sounds like a command.

“No.”

“I can’t well get Jesper to do it, he is as subtle as his shirts.”

“I can’t believe you would take on a Dreg without blackmail or proof of their loyalty Kaz. Have you gone soft?” A quirk of an eyebrow. Good, he gets it.

“Who says blackmail wasn’t involved?” He’s not lying, but retroactive information isn’t really his ‘modus operandi’.

“Who had the nerve to blackmail you?” Sankta Alina, the real Sankta Alina, is in my bag.

“No one Wraith. But he may have something to add to a job I’m working on.”

“Do I get to know about this new job?”

“Inej, tail the Fjerdan.” All information comes at a price, even in the Dregs. “And maybe keep him away from Nina for a while.” Especially in the Dregs.

“What has he done?”

“I will be able to tell you when you supply me with the full picture.”

“Fine.”

“Good. Class begins in a minute.” He made no move to stand up. Prideful to the last, even though the leg means he needs twice as long as Jes. Four times longer than me.

I leave out the window.

***

“Hello everyone. Busy day today, let’s all try to make it easier for each other and get straight on then, shall we?” As always, my class is a brick wall. The joys of teaching history to the lower years - no one cares. Especially when haunted by their own history.

“Okay, so I get that it’s Monday morning and nothing I am going to say is going to change that. So how about we strike a deal?” Oh, now they listen.

“You guys do the reading and questions I planned for the day, plus the review sheets on medicine in the 18th Century. In return, this class will be dedicated to how history impacts today. I will allow questions. Deal?”

The little Smeet kid pipes up. “Any questions? If we can link it to history?”

Podge. “Yes. But I can pass on any I don’t want to answer. Seem fair?”

A chorus reply: “The deal is the deal.” The listen too much to their deputy. Never tell someone you believe in fairness. They’ll use it against you.

“Okay, go ahead.”

“How does talking about medicine in the old times help us now? We have hospitals and vaccines and water and stuff.”

“It’s important to know where the luxuries we have now came from. It’s important to see hospitals as the gifts they are. It’s important to understand the revelation of vaccines. To prioritise clean water to people who still don’t have it in this day and age.” One vigorous nod from the only kissass in the room.

“How does history impact on your life?” Surprising one.

“I grew up surrounded by traditions, but the history and wisdom of my foremothers and fathers. We pass stories down like heirlooms and trade sayings like secrets. Some history teaches what not to do, what to look out for in case it happens again - and some history teaches us what to expect, how to act, where we should be looking for what is important to us.”

“Like the Fjerdans? And the Grisha?”

“Yes, that is an example of how the history of a nation can inform policies that seem completely immoral.”

“Okay.” I guess that Joost kid isn’t all too bad.

“The point I am trying to get at with this lesson is that, if we forget our history, we are blinding ourselves to what is around us. That includes the country we live in, the people we confide in, and the actions we take.”

“Let’s have an example?”

“Imagine that you had a bad experience with a dog. It was really loud and scary when you were little. This made you scared of dogs.

But you then have a child. And that child has never even seen a dog in real life, for some reason… you have two options. You can either pass on your fear of dogs to them or make the decision not to, to shelter them from that fear and to let them make their own judgement on dogs. Now, if you are aware of your history with dogs when making that decision, you are more likely to make the right choice. Does that make sense?”

More nods than I have had all year.

“Great! Any other questions?”

***

After fielding questions about my dating history, Ms. Zenik’s dating history, as well as “the deal with Brekker, I mean Mr Brekker, is”, I was just about dead on my feet by the time the two hour lesson ended. Break time. Thank the Saints.

“I hear that Van Eck has a ridiculously pretty young wife hiding away somewhere.” Jes was hard to miss in bright Magenta.

“Ridiculous because she is pretty and he is like a toad? Or because he is old enough to be her father?”

I levered myself up off the back of the sofa. “Both. Definitely both.” Jes screamed again. At least everyone is used to it by now.

“‘Nej.”

“Neens.”

“I have a declaration. That is also a question. And a preposition.”

“Uh, Nina, don’t you mean a proposition?” Oh Jesper, near one for subtlety.

“Yes Jes I do, but I haven’t had 5 hours sleep in 48 hours, and so vowels all look - sound! - the same to me right now.

“Ghezen, you need coffee more than I do!”

“Is that an offer?” Grumbling about the distance, he moved over to the kitchenette, and I sat down in his place.

“Your declaration?”

“Yes, yes, you are so on it today! Okay, two words: new recruits. And they need two more words to settle in: staff party. So four words: new recruits staff party.”

Chapter Text

New job. New city. New priorities.

And witches.

This is for Brum. And Fjerda. And the safety of all countries, even the Djel-forsaken Kerch. “Just go in, find information on and hopefully apprehend the Drüsje and then get out. We don’t want you getting caught up with them, now do we, Helvar?” Brum’s plan is simple. Efficient.

It just needs me to go into the depths of Ketterdam High without drowning.

I wanted to teach the little Drüskelle. Before Brum and before I saw village after village go up in flames, I wanted to teach children. But I got older and I learnt that sacrifices must be made for the safety of my way of life. ‘I was made to protect you. Only death will keep me from this oath.’

This is the only thought in my mind as I push through the stream of Kerch peasant children to the main office. And so it begins.

***

I’ve been waiting half an hour. I guess Brum wasn’t lying when he said this dump was understaffed. This would not stand in Fjerda.

I would be concerned that I am wearing down the carpet with my pacing, but as it stands, there is little carpet to ruin.

A voice drags my attention away from the dingy whitewash and stopped clock - 11:24 as I figure it. “Are you lost?” If only.

I turn. A tall Zemeni man with a truly horrendous shirt cocked his head. Djel only knows what these people get up to, if they can’t even man a front desk. “I believe I am to see Mr Brekker. I am the new P.E teacher.”

“Oh, you want to see Kaz? Good luck to you, man.” He claps me on the shoulder. I am momentarily distracted with trying not to flinch to register his words, a beat too late in replying. Oh, wonderful. Now he is doing it for me. “I don’t mean to say that he is a bad guy, if you work hard and he knows he can trust you, he doesn’t really care bout ya, if you get me. But still, if you aren’t used to him, he can be a bit, prickly?” He ended what I assume was meant to be a statement like a question. One of us needs to work on our Kerch. And it’s not me.

“I understand. Do I need to know anything before I go in?” Maybe this naive Zemeni man will be useful in my mission.

“Just, um. Well, try not to make him angry.” That wasn’t a question. Interesting.

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

“Okay… well, it’s the third door on the left on the third floor. Would you like me to walk you?”

“No thank you. I’ll see you soon, I imagine?” A nod. Nodding back, I head off to the staircase that has been my companion for the best part of an hour by now. This Brekker seems like a piece of work if even his own people are scared of him. He could learn from Commander Brum.

***

“You’re the Fjerdan.” Not a question. I recognise the throwing down of a gauntlet when I see it.

“Yes. P.E teacher. Taught Kerch back in Fjerda too.” If I earn his confidence, perhaps I can access his files and root out the witches in this forsaken school.

“I know. I also know that you are close with Brum. He recommended you for this position. Something about being a shining example of modern Fjerda. It was rather complimentary.” A completely impassive face. Remarkable. Was is it they say about still waters and hidden depths?

“We are close, yes.”

“It would be a shame if your glowing reputation was tarnished during your time here.” The threat was obvious. The little demjin is trying to blackmail me. Well, two can play at that game.

“Indeed. Especially considering how closely our respective countries will be looking at my progress here. Fjerda, I know, supports an educational union with Kerch.”

“I’m sure. Unity in Kerch is hard to come by.” There is something about his complete stillness, his blank, bored expression. Not only is he a threat, he is an obstacle. “But maybe yours will be the exception.”

“That’s the plan.” Well, part of it, anyway.

“Well then, I guess I should show you to your classroom.” He moved to stand, but aborted the movement almost as soon as it begun. “Sir.” Presumably, he wasn’t talking to me.

“Brekker. Is this the fresh meat you were telling me about?” This pot-bellied relic is Haskell. Surely. Who else would the ‘Bastard of the Barrel’ show respect to?

“Yes sir. Matthias Helvar.” Do they think I am not here?

“I remember well enough, boy.” He pivoted to address me. “Let me walk you to your classroom then, fresh meat.” Oh, this could be interesting.

***

“So you see, boy, that I don’t really care what you do, so long as the Fjerdan ambassador and his lovely, lovely Kruge stay on your side. Just don’t fuck up too badly, or I’ll have to do something about it, you understand.” I understand that this old drunk is no threat to me, no matter what he says. At least the demjin had the brains to threaten me indirectly.

“Yes sir.” No sir. Three bags full sir.

Chapter Text

The calendar on the wall is crooked. This is only important because I am looking at it and so have to cock my head to one side to read. I would move it, but that feels like giving into what the calendar wants. I only need it for scheduling reasons anyway. Inej and Kaz, as inseparable as they are, are difficult to factor in. If he asks her to spy for him or ask her on a date (my prayers would be answered) then they are both out of the mix and it is just me, Jes and Haskell who will talk to the newbies. Oh, the curses of being so attractive and outgoing. It is truly a curse.

I could ask the Bastard if I didn't think he would avoid the party just to spite me. But he wouldn't spite Nej and she wouldn't spite me. Yet again, Brekker and I's shared love of Inej will be his downfall. Serves him right for denying my holiday leave to Ravka. I'll ask her with muffins.

***

"Why is it always me?" Inej turns the muffin over in her hands, while Jes throws parts of his second one into his mouth. She rolls her eyes as he cheers, then promptly chokes.

He recovers quickly. "Because you are the glue that holds this family together 'Nej. And, I reallllllly want to get drunk."

"Why do you need Kaz to get drunk?'

"Because the only thing better than gambling while drunk is the potential for Kaz to gamble while drunk. Or see him drunk. What kinda drunk do you think he is? Inej?"

"I wouldn't know." I highly doubt that, the loyal little badass.

"For me?"

"For you. And the potential to make the transition easier for the newcomers."

"All hail Sankta Inej." I intone solemnly, half serious, half blasphemous.

"Hear hear."

"Not the correct response Jes." He raises one eyebrow in response.

"When would work for you, Neen?"

"I have a list."

"Why are you only organised when alcohol is involved?"

"Serious business requires serious commitment."

"Like your commitment to your work?" Oh, crap. Let's hope Brekker doesn't mind his simping being discussed in public spaces.

"Sure Brekker. We eat, sleep and breathe education."

"Almost literally, Kaz. Did the printer explode again? I swear, this break room smells so stereotypically 'teacher' that it makes me want to scream, a little bit." Kay did not dignify my perfectly valid complaints with a response. "No matter. I have, most kindly, deigned to host a welcome party for the newbies this week. If you give me with what I want - for you to say "Oh Nina, you are so great!" as you RSVP - and tell me when you are free."

"Have fun with that, Nina love."

"Well, I'm going, Jes too. Isn't that right Jes?" Inej raises an eyebrow at me. Strap in.

"Oh, definitely. And it's bring your own, right Neens?"

I sure hope so. "I'll have stuff in, but yeah."

Inej straightens, just slightly, pointedly not looking at Kaz. "Great! I think it will be nice for us all to hang out in a room that doesn't smell like coffee, printer ink and unrealised potential. And it will be handy to be able to scope out the new guys - what they are like, if they will get on well with us, whether they think Haskell looks more like a potato or an egg..." Magnificent. Masterful.

"What time does it start? I might drop by." Saints, that's impressive.

***

Strawberry waffles and two batches of sausage rolls later and I have a plan. And a shopping list. I could do with getting on with the PE teacher, if only because I can't move the big fridge. And it would be nice to have someone to make fun of Kaz's haircut with. Inej and Jesper are both way too in love with that edgy little arsehole for it to be truly satisfying. Admittedly, Jes is over his Kaz-crush, thank Someone, but it's still hazardous to bring up his appearance. Hilarious, but very time consuming. I guess one must make sacrifices for comedy.

Now, the Chem teacher could be interesting. I hope, obviously, that he doesn't have a stick up his... bottom. But, if he does, that's okay! Because I am very good at freaking conservative arses out. Such as saying 'arse' in polite company.

No theme, don't want to freak them out. Arriving around 9, ask Jes and Nej to be there at 8 (so Jes turns up at 8:30). Maybe get Zoya and Genya involved, if they are in town. That teacher-swap program thing is either fake, or stupidly unpredictable. The important thing is that, even if we hate them, the fresh meat at least has someone to confide in. I can practice my apple cocktail recipe. And waffles for those who stay over. If I know stupid-emo-haircut as much as working for the guy for 4 years makes me think I do, he will want the gossip ("Intel, Nina.") on them. A win-win for everyone.

I'm a mother hen, truly.

I mean, Inej is the actual mother of the group, of course. She keeps us on the right path, both literal and moral. But I have alcohol and waffles, so we make a pretty good team. Haskell's the racist grandad. Van Eck can be the stupid neighbour who keeps your stuff. Jes - is he a child? yes. Is he our child? I don't think so. I think he is, like, the uncle that just showed up one day. Does that make Kaz the dad? Or is he just a safeguarding risk?

Ugh. I need to be more drunk to be able to do that. Roll on Friday!

Chapter Text

'You can do this Wy. You can't read or talk to a cute guy, but you can teach. You know science and children. Children love sweets. This will be fine.' Another box of chocolates for the adults should do. If kids love 'em, why can't the adults do the same.

Maybe it's a stretch to try for some kind of Pavlovian response in the school at large, but it is worth a try. Becoming a teacher is important to him. Becoming a teacher without his father's help, approval or knowledge of it is more so. This should be the hardest part. At least there will be some way to explore the creative arts - his mother would be proud if he could inspire just one child.

So he is willingly becoming a Dreg.

He isn't stupid. He knows that the Barrel schools are a viper pit and Ketterdam High is the worst of the lot. Hundreds of angry, malnourished children who have few opportunities and fewer morals. Fiercely protective of their school and aggressive towards outsiders. His father used to tell him stories. The washed up teachers, the bottom of the Barrel, the Dregs of the education system.

He is one of them now.

Or at least, he will be when he actually walks in the door. He is at least 30 minutes early for his 8:00 appointment, figuring that getting fired for being late would put the final nail in his career.

If he wasn't staring at the door like it had just grown a head, he wouldn't have noticed it open and close within a few seconds. No sound, but a very small woman with soulful eyes and Suli skin was no standing in front of him now. In his surprise, he vaguely wondered if he was wearing earplugs. She cocked her head, half-raising one dark eyebrow, before inexplicably smiling, presumably at him, and gesturing for him to follow her.

No, he wasn't wearing earplugs. He couldn't be, if he was able to cringe at each and every step he took. His very shiny Grown Up Shoes squeaked. Only so slightly, but in the empty halls and total silence of Her, he felt like an imposter, disturbing the peace of the school. After all the turns and halls and classrooms blurred together, Wylan was confronted, no, addressed by the Small Woman. "My name is Inej. I'm the English and history teacher. You were hired by Kaz, he is the deputy headteacher. You have another twenty minutes before you need to meet him." Ghezen, did she even look at a clock? How is he going to remember how to get anywhere? Does she want a chocolate? "Yes please, actually. Do you have a hazelnut one?" And with that, Wylan smiled his first real smile of the week.

***

She had two more chocolates as she showed him around the school. She printed a 'TEACHER' sticker for him, handing it to him apologetically. She explained that they didn't have the budget for lanyards yet, but Kaz is working on it, using the safeguarding angle. Inej explained a lot to him, in her quiet, serious voice. That 'Kaz' didn't mind being referred to by his first or surname, but Mr Haskell did. That the lunches were free, but for good reason - no one wanted them. She showed him his office. That's right, office. Apparently, the school was built for about 1000 more children than now enrolled, so everyone gets a classroom and an office. There is about 20 teachers. Pretty even split between new and old, as well. Haskell's crowd keep to themselves, so long as they are shown considerably more respect than they deserve, and you don't comment on their racism. Figures. She explained how to get the staffroom, and promised to drop him off at his classroom for first period.

Which brings him here. In front of the Bastard of the Barrel's door. Who is now his boss. Ghezen. Luckily for him, Inej was still with him and pushed the door open without even knocking. Well, okay then. I guess that happened.

This office was, clearly, always an office. Not one of the several classroom-turned-offices he has seen today. Slated ceilings, a large open window, and a fastidiously neat bookcase. An empty desk, sat in front of a grey filing cabinet and folder system that seemed like the project of a man who liked to know what to expect. That makes two of them.

The ancient heater, common in every school, framed the chairs placed in front of the desk. They did not look comfortable.

The Bastard himself wasn't even there yet. "It's okay Wylan, we are still early. Feel free to sit down." She sat herself on the windowsill, watching the thin stream of teachers enter the school. Well, it was more like a drip, if Wylan was being uncharitable.

"Mr Van Eck." Gravelly voice, just like the real, the older, Mr Van Eck described to him. Showtime Wylan.

"Mr Hendricks, if you don't mind." He needs to be assertive about this from the beginning. Kaz said nothing. To him, at least.

"Make yourself at home, Inej, why don't you?"

"Just saying hello to my Crows, Kaz. Carry on, we need to be in class soon."

"You could name one after Hendricks here if he behaves." At least the name took?

"Um, if you don't mind, can I ask why I am here?" At that, Inej gave a small half smile. At least he has an... ally? in someone here. Somehow, Kaz didn't give off the impression that a chocolate would help his opinion of his new hire.

"I would assume you would know. To teach. I asked you here to make sure you weren't pretending to be someone you aren't and to be assured of your loyalty."

"To the children?"

"To me." Well, that isn't ominous at all.

"Okay?"

"You will not consult for other schools, for the Council, for anyone outside of this school. You will not go against this school. You most definitely will not go against me."

"I will not."

"I assume you know the stories of what I do to those who do?" That wasn't really a question. Inej does that too, statements-that-should-really-be-questions thing, Wylan's mind thought absently.

But he did know the stories. Of course he did. That's what kept his paralysed outside his school's door for Ghezen knows how long. A nod and a thick gulp.

"At least half of them are true." A glint of steel crossed through bitter coffee. Dirtyhands, as the merchers privately called him, was out to play. He stood up then, crossing the room and throwing the door open before Wylan could even register the infamous crow-headed cane. What has he gotten himself into?

Inej was by his elbow now. "There is a party on Friday to welcome you if you would like to come. Well, you and the other new teacher." Oh crap. "You can meet the woman throwing it at lunch if you would like. She tends to bring food. I can swing by your classroom after period 3 to bring you to the staffroom if you would like?" Wylan could only nod.

They set off down the halls that still looked exactly the same, stopping outside a particularly pitiful lab. Inej made the universal 'well, this is you, head on inside movement'. A genuine smile and then she was gone. Wylan had a class to teach.

***

The first three classes weren't too bad. The kids clearly don't care as much as he, or even the kids in his training program, do. But that's okay. He remained in control of the class and opted to give the sweets for participation at the end of the class. All in all, not too bad. Inej was due any minute, meaning Wylan had precious few moments to himself before the big introduction.

Running his hands through ruddy curls and down his shirt, Wylan took a steeling breath and counted to 10. He opened his eyes to see Inej perched on the front lab bench. Dear Ghezen.

"I startled you." The statement thing again.

"Yes, you did, a little." he said, a little breathy and an octave higher than usual.

"I assume you are nervous about meeting the other teachers?" No follow up on that? Okay.

She called him a teacher. Her equal. That is excellent news, he hasn't messed up too badly yet. "A little."

"That's okay. Would it help if I told you who you would be meeting?" That was a question. Said kindly too. Maybe she is not just an ally? Possibly, a friend?

"Yes, I think it would, if that's okay?"

"Let's walk and talk. It's about 5 minutes to walk to the break room."

He learnt about the well-meaning but loud Nina, the louder but sweet Jesper, and an unknown Fjerdan PE teacher whose first lunch at the school is also today. Anika is abrupt and violent, Pim is softer and more stupid. Roeder left and one of the old boys was stabbed, which is why there was a vacancy in the first place. The advice was to not bring that up. Wylan concurred.

In fact, by the time they reached the break room, Wylan was only concerned about 3 people in there. 4, if he includes himself. Haskell, Dirtyhands and the mystery Fjerdan. He doesn't know if the old man knows his father, or what his new boss will say about him. And handling mysteries, as a rule, are not Wylan's strong suit.

Chapter Text

It's Tuesday. There are 4 days until that forsaken party. A deadline of only 4 days to know what he will be walking into. All this extra work, and for what?

'To make Inej happy. To see her outside of this dump. Because she smiles more with Nina than you.' It appears that unwelcome voice is back. 

That hulking Fjerdan is interesting. Basically a step up from a brick wall with hair, he is hiding something. Inej would say that we all are, and to give him the benefit of the doubt. The Van Eck, no, Hendricks kid could be useful. She says he is smart, hates his father, and knows his compounds inside out. That's a lucky mix for Kaz. For the Dregs, the heist the kruge. 

If the party is the way to work out what to do with the Fjerdan, then the next 4 days are the way to work out what to do at the party. But that can wait, it's about time for a test.

"Books away." Yet to figure out if they are deliberately obtuse, or are trying to get away with less work. Foolish children, don't they know that the Barrel will crush their hopes of an easy life of no work, if it hasn't already. This may be the only time of their insignificant lives that their work could be significant. If Kaz wasn't already scowling, he would be be now. 

"You have 15 minutes. Answer them all. If you communicate, you get detention with Ms. Zenik." A collective groan. Good. Maybe there is hope for them yet, if they understand threats more than kindness. No one wants to clean out Nina's classroom. Jesper once found mustard from before he was even born. A few questions to check their understanding seems to pale in comparison. 

***

"What I don't understand, bossman, is how the Dime Lions' school can afford a swimming pool. I mean, granted, they have no taste, or they wouldn't have called it the Emerald Palace, but still. We can't afford glue sticks!"

"Jesper."

"Uh, yeah?"

"Shut up."

"Yes boss." Today has not been a good day. Jesper cornered him as he left his maths class. At this rate, he'll make him carry these books himself, he has that much frantic energy. One look seems to scream 'My dad and I fought again'. Luckily for Kaz, he doesn't bring it up. Ghezen only knows if he will when pumped with alcohol. Yet another reason that he didn't want to go. Jesper goes to leave then, clearly disheartened. 

"Jesper." He stills and looks up. Is he trying to act like a puppy? "Nina's party. Who is going?"

That smile is reserved for talking about Zenik or crime, preferably both. "Um, you, me, 'Nej, PE, Science, Anika, Rotty and Specht. Pim is, um, indisposed."

Jesper's attempt at subtlety before a hall full of students is abysmal. At least I know if he is being honest with me. Well, as much as he can be. And Pim's absence is expected. He was tasked with surveillance. As a true procrastinator, he would of course leave it until it's deadline. Friday is when anything interesting is to happen anyway. "Right. Do you know what I am to bring?" If Kaz is going to go, he will not do it badly. He doesn't.

"I can find out..." He has an annoying habit of making statements into questions.

"Do. A dress code too."

"What, no 'please' or 'thank you'? Did someone wake up on the wrong side of the bed?" Giving him a task has created an ill-advised sense of buoyancy in Jesper. 

"You know the answer to that, or else you wouldn't continue to work here."

"You are no fun." He says it half-heartedly, and all but skips away to period 3. Reason number 23 that it is a terrible idea to invite Dirtyhands to a party. 

***

This is the first real break time for the newcomers, in more ways than one. Sensitive, shy and weak Wylan against a group of underpaid and possibly pissed off teachers. And the potential wildcard of the Fjerdan. Inej hasn't met the Fjerdan, she has no opinion on him. But Nina is Ravkan, and Fjerdan people aren't known for their inclusivity to, well anyone. 

What is it they say about leadership? 'Aim for fear, not love. Love is fickle, broken bones are forever.' It wouldn't be the first time that Kaz Brekker has needed to break some bones for this school.

He pushes through the underwhelming double doors into the equally as underwhelming staff room. It's disproportionately large for 10 teachers, but it serves its purpose. The smell of stale coffee, printer ink, waffles and 25 year old carpet hits you from halfway down the hall. Carpet, as cracked and worn with age as it is, may be an overly generous term. Like most of the school, it is too big for its population, the building itself a symbol of the school: diminished in standing, but not in size. There are 3 coffee machines (only one of which works), 4 lumpy sofas, a slightly charred coffee table and cabinets filled with weapons, food and paper, respectively. There are 3 fridges, each with labels designed by Jesper for that one term he had a dalliance with a graphic designer and "got inspired": 'Nina's experiments (note to self, do not touch without permission)', 'normal food, help yourself (except you, Kaz)' and 'What's the first rule of food (fight!) club?', with 'this fridge does not exist, unless you need to ask Inej for the key.' written in tight, tiny writing. The back of the room, where Wylan is staring, has enough tables for nearly one each and enough mismatched chairs for a school 3 times the size. The old boys gather in each others' classrooms and it's clear to see why. 

Inej is on top of a printer, which doesn't seem that impressive until you see how it is stacked on top of an out-of-use scanner, three monitors, plus half a dozen disused tables. She is cleaning her nails with a knife, in full view of anyone, which can only mean she is at that scene in Death of a Salesman. He'll have to do something about that. Maybe a heist.

Wylan is still staring at her. Guessing he isn't the only one. Kaz clears his throat and they both turn. A smile and a nod from Inej. And then she is down that tower in the time it takes him to blink twice. Wylan is beet red and worrying his curls, without having met anyone yet. Kaz has the closest classroom to the break room, so it is not uncommon for him to be first here. Besides Inej, who is so completely everywhere, he have taken to assuming she is always first. But this Hendricks kid, he is unknown and unknowing enough to disrupt the pattern. He must realise something to this effect when he, not subtly, pivots his attention to Inej. "I told you it would take less than a minute Wylan." She says it quietly, not teasing. She noticed his tell about that then. You can't hide anything from the Wraith, not truly. "They will start arriving in the next two minutes. Jesper, then Nina. Rotty and Specht come between the two, and Anika only shows her face here on Mondays. Nina makes waffles on Monday."

"And obviously the Fjerdan is an outlier too." Kaz nods along. If Wylan works better the more information his has, then they are alike. That might make convincing him to join heists more difficult.

"Didn't sleep much, Kaz?" She raises an eyebrow at him. Ghezen, does he look that tired? Did Jes tell her to say that? No. No-one tells Inej how to feel.

"Do I look like I sleep?" Deflection, for when answering a question gives too much away.

"You make a fair point. You could probably survive on spite and espresso for at least a week."

"Just a week? You think so little of me?" A choked cough from the left of Inej and then we are both aware that Wylan is still in the room. Or, more accurately, Kaz is aware that he is still in the room. Too bad. She throws him a soft look, turning her attention to Wylan and explaining the labelled fridge system and that she is the only one to be trusted with a key, after Nina swallowed hers on a bet, Kaz left it lodged in a person who made a comment, and how Jesper bet, and subsequently lost, his. That was a pain for Kaz to get back. Wylan went from looking red and uncomfortable to looking pale and uncomfortable.

"Relax Wy." Nicknames already? "He won't do the key thing without reason. And plus, if you work here and prove yourself, Kaz may even widen his circle of protection to 4. Maybe."

"Begrudging circle, I may add."

"I didn't think you needed protection Inej." Poor Wylan, he is going to have to learn fast.

"That's sweet Wy, but you need to understand that the Barrel is a lonely, scary place if you have no allies. Sometimes, you need allies, friends, protectors, confidantes to be able to function."

She's missing the point. "Survive."

"Thrive."

She didn't miss the point. "Speak for yourself."

"And hopefully Wylan." The Wylan in question looked as though he opened a jar expecting to find cookies and instead found parem. For the second time in as many minutes, Kaz pitied the young boy with the ruddy curls and questionable upbringing. At least he had Inej to steer him in the right direction.

"I hope so too, Inej. It's nice to know you will look out for me, but I hope I can just keep my head down and not need anyone's help." Smart boy. Too bad.

Inej was saved from having to scrounge a reply to that sugar sweet sentiment by the arrival of Jesper. Bursting through the doors with characteristic energy, he ambled in on long legs, until they promptly stopped working, apparently. The idiot looked like he had seen a ghost. Or a Saint. Maybe the ghost of an attractive Saint? He recovered quickly, though, and then half sauntered, half strode over to Inej and Wylan.

Ah, so Wylan is our attractive ghost. Figures.

"My name is Jesper and someone this cute cannot possibly be a PE teacher. You must be Wylan Hendricks." Having seen the PE teacher, he isn't wrong, even if it wasn't based on observation.

"Um... yes. That's me. Wylan. Hendricks. You know that." Oh, look at that, red again. "What, what do you, you know, teach?" Great small talk. Inej cuts him a glance and he already starts erecting a timetable for whatever kindhearted scheme she is going to sell him on to get these two together. Not that she will have to try very hard.

"Ah, you see, sweet Wylan, I am a drama teacher at heart. But the tragedy is that drama is in short supply here, so I also help 'Nej with English and dabble in RPE and Tech."

A laugh, the laugh, comes from Inej. "Short supply of drama, huh? Would you like to tell Wylan why that coffee machine is broken?"

He did not. He did, however, ask Wylan about his hobbies - art and music, mostly - and asked him to bring in an instrument to play for the staff tomorrow. They were both blushing by now, though Jesper did his best to hide it. After Wylan stammered out an affirmative response, Jesper seemed to come-to and realise that there were other people in the room.

Kaz could see Inej already forming the 'How adorable!' in her mind. Jesper jumped around a little, while inviting the newbie to Nina's party, although one would assume that was Nina's job.

The Fjerdan arrived next. This would be fun.

Blond, broad and about 4 inches taller than Kaz, he stood tall, back straight, shoulders rigid. He surveyed the room like seeking potential threats. Not as a response to being in the Barrel, no, this is too practiced to be anything but a habit, presumably from training. After he deemed the boys, who were still flirting, oblivious to the potentially violent, potentially docile man behind them, and Inej to be of little consequence, he moved towards Kaz. This could be because he felt superior to the men, to Inej no less, or because he looked down on their marked brown-and-gay-ness, as Jesper had so aptly put once at a Christmas party. Kaz was annoyingly in the dark about this man. He was recommended by Brum, a so-called educator, who was renowned for his hateful views, but the extent to which the man in front of him believed the same was unknown.

Nina, thank Ghezen, arrived with cupcakes and smiles. She half smiled at her boss as she breezed in from the outside entrance. When Kaz followed her gaze to Helvar, it was clear that she knew something he didn't. As if to make up for his inaction, Inej slid past Jesper and Wylan, who had finally stopped talking and had turned to face the (lack of) action - the new PE teacher. She strode up with a confidence and pose that could only ever be hers and stuck her hand out at the man who must be a foot taller than her, effectively cutting off Nina, whilst also making an effort to include him in their gang of misfits. He moved behind Nina, to back Inej up and potentially control Nina.

It turns out, that is not needed. He takes her hand, skin on skin, and Kaz is decidedly not jealous. Nina deflates as Inej introduces herself and politely inquires about him. Jesper, either ignoring or unaware of Helper's potential reaction, follows suit, followed tentatively and quietly by the short demo expert. Nina pointedly places the cupcakes down on the coffee table, then turns on her heel, and strides off to the kitchenette to brew tea. Helvar notices, but doesn't do much. In fact, he isn't doing much of anything, really. Inej, and her oh-so-careful stance, poised for action, agrees with him.

Matthias Helvar needs to be watched.

Chapter Text

'Focus, Jesper. You are making conversation with an incredibly wide PE teacher. You need to focus. You can't say the wrong thing and then get decked. Then cute, hot Wylan will see you with a broken nose.' Jesper scolded himself. It was not very effective. 

Jesper never could focus if there was a bet to be made, and it is fair to say that he just found his new game.

"So, you see, I thought I would give it another try in a different place, hopefully try to move on from Brum and the druskelle." An accent, but Jesper found it easier than he expected to understand the repentant sinner. Something about spending most of your day regretting what you know your night will entail will do that to a man. 

"That is very admirable, Matthias. If you want to give back, I would be happy to help. There are some great charities, or there are things we could do within the school, if that would be something you would be interested in?" Inej was truly a Saint. She was clearly uncomfortable - growing up in Ravka would make anyone wary around Druskelle. But she handled it well, her unique kindness and quiet magnetism did the trick. She got a small smile - the first smile - from Matthias. This was excellent news. 

Not only for giant - Ghezen, is that all him? - but for Jesper too. If he didn't need to befriend Matthias, he could get back to Wylan. Or at least, he wanted to. One look at Kaz and Nina glowering from the kitchen and he knew he would have to selflessly give up some time with His Royal Handsomeness for the greater good. More specifically, for the good of everyone's favourite blonde newcomer. 

The Nina thing was obvious. She hates his politics. Which is understandable, because her politics hates her. Fair is fair and all. But whether or not he is actually reformed like he claims, she is making it a bit obvious. I mean, she could hide it, a little bit, until Kaz knows whats going on. Or at this rate, it will Inej who gives us the all clear. Brekker looks about ready to kill, but, more worryingly, we don't have anyone who could sub for PE. 

Jes will never go back there again. Too cold, too violent, too little chance to work some drama in there. 'Although,' he supposes, 'with this new Nina-and-Matthias dimension, that may well chance for some drama, even if it isn't my own.' So Brekker and Nina better think of him before they plot murder. 

So Jesper does what Jesper does best - make himself a laughing stock. He tells jokes and witticisms and recalls that one story with a goat, Makker's Wheel and a very nice redhead. Matthias seemed not to react appropriately to some of it, but the story, the goat especially, seemed to strike a nerve. "I have, well, had, a wolf. His name is, was, Trassel."

"A whole wolf?"

"Well he couldn't well have half of one, now, can he Jes?" Nina was snappier than normal, but right. Unfortunately.

"I... erm, yes. He was a good boy." Well, we have got nothing else out of this mountainous enigma. May as well make this work.

"His name was Tassel?"

"Trassel."

Ghezen, give him something to work with! "I'm afraid my language skills get as far as Shakespeare, and Inej will testify that even that is spotty at best. I don't know any Fjerdian whatsoever." A pause. Come on man, pick up the subtext. "What does Trassel mean Matthias?"

"Troublemaker." That wasn't Helvar's voice. Nina knows languages, it's kinda important for her being a language teacher and all, but it was unheard of for her to butt in like that, or to be so despondent for getting the answer right. 

Matthias, however, knew none of this, so was understandably confused and a little... no, he can't be impressed by her already! That is his job! If they are single handedly going to beat the homophobia and sexism out of this guy, Jes wanted the first hit. Or, would that have been Inej? No-one wants to be third.

Jes went over to flirt with Wylan. That is still something he could do. 

***

"So I assume you want to take the 'Death of a Salesman' classes and I'll take Keats? Who wants to take Othello?" Inej, for her little stature, was surprisingly, terrifyingly, efficient. Jes shook his head.

"Alright, but if you see, Juliet should really go with Desdemona, so I guess the real question is, do you want 'Death' or not?"

"I do." Wait, what? How had she done that? Is Inej secretly the criminal mastermind? Was Kaz just a pretty face for her all along?

"Thank you, I'll take a little people class of your choice if you would like." Never mind, she clearly has a conscience. 

"You are by far the best."

"I'm... not going to comment on whatever that sentence construction was."

"Good shout." 

"What do you think of the newcomers? You and Wylan seem to get on well..." Not subtle, Nej.

"He is very cute. Did you see those curls?" 

"Hard to miss."

"And that PE guy, I don't know if we can trust, Nej. What does Kazzie say?"

"He says if you call him that one more time I will break your knuckles." Kaz was behind him. Kaz was behind him and Inej said nothing and-

"Oh." Jes stated, calm. "So he's behind me."

"Something like that. We don't trust him either, Jes." She could at least pretend to hide her laugh. This is just insulting.

"My new best friend Matty, or my old best friend Kazzie, who I have just disowned for SCARING ME OUT OF MY MIND? And also that thing in Keramzin." Oh, boy. The signal? For what? There is no emergency.

"First of all, I am your best friend, so get that through your head right now, Fahey. Second of all, it was funny, so there. Third, why will no one tell me what happened in Keramzin?" She isn't wrong. Except about Keramzin. I couldn't tell that story, even if I wanted to. Kaz made it up when he nearly got shot because I don't speak 'eyebrows'. As I said, languages aren't my forte. Hence, 'Keramzin' means danger: get out, make an excuse. It's like the 'Vatican Cameos' thing from Sherlock. I think that's where Kaz got the idea. Or they got it from him. Who even knows when it comes to the Bastard.

"You aren't a very good spider if you can't find out what happened, Wraith." I mean, harsh?

"I can't well bring you to you, to... get the information out!" Frustrated and embarrassed about torture. Just how Kaz likes em.

"Then you will never know." Why is he like this?

"Fahey could break." Have they forgotten that Fahey is still in the room? He should tell them.

"He won't. Not if he doesn't want to tell you about what happened to that orange suit." How the hell will he work an orange suit into the story? Inej knows more about Keramzin than him, that's for sure.

"I am right here. Hi! Can you see me?"

Inej said "Sorry, Jes." at the same time as Kaz said "Fuck off Jes." True love! And he called him Jes. A success on two fronts.

"Okie dokie! I'm going to pretend that didn't hurt my feelings. Anyway, Kaz, can you come look at this book? Their handwriting makes me want to strangle them, and you have that magic power with handwriting."

"Sure Jesper, I'll be there in a minute." Such a shame if couldn't last. And he was the one who signalled for an escape? Is there anyway that something did happen in Keramzin? He would know, right? Maybe Kaz is saying he needs to push harder? 

"I have them period 5 bossman."

Cue long-suffering sigh. "Fine. Fine, I'm coming." The hand across the face was an overkill. 

"Bye Inej!" He gives the small woman a shoulder squeeze. Kaz nods at her. He never nods at me. 

***

Friday! The day of parties! More specifically, Nina's party. She's experimenting with proper cocktails right now. Nominally because her classes are either in exams or currently being interviewed by the Stadwatch, but mainly cos she thinks it's badass to have alcohol on campus. (The kids agree.) Plus, her third blender is here.

That's right, this woman has three blenders.

She is the perfect (platonic) woman. Inej too. Actually, only the guys are problematic in my life. 

"Jes?" Oh, right, yeah, listening time. Stop thinking. Or start thinking about listening? 

"Huh?"

"Can you help Inej with the lights?" Nina was calling from the kitchen, where she was cutting brownies like her life depended on it.

"Does Inej need help with the lights?"

"Inej needs help with the lights!" 

Inej didn't need help with the lights. He just stood there, occasionally handing her things she could already get herself, and telling her about his theory that Kaz is actually a bank. "There is no way that you just thought this up right now Jes. It's way too elaborate and thought through."

"Um, rude."

"It's true! He doesn't feed off interest, but the thing about scaring people who don't understand how he works is on the money. And the love for kruge. But I am convinced you wrote this down sometime."

He did. "I was thinking about it in the shower before I came over."

"Did I hear that right? Nina practically bellowed. "Jes thinks about Kaz in the shower?"

"As if you don't think about me in the shower Neens! Stop kidding yourself!"

Inej was thinking. "Can I offer a tweak to your theory?" He nodded. "He wants people to think he is a bank, with the sole hope that one day, they will just... give him money for doing nothing."

Jes raised his eyebrow, and considered. "I like it. I'm going to tell Wylan. He hates bank merchers and is scared of Kaz."

Now Inej was raising her eyebrow. "Is that so?"

"Yeah, I tried to say that he isn't that bad, but you know how merchers get. They tell the little merchaings all sorts of ghost stories about us."

"Us?"

"Fine, you and Kaz. Dirty hands and the Wraith. Just get married already." Inej turned the colour of her top.

"Speaking of marriage," Nina waltzed into the room with at least 4 trays, "how is Wylan?"

A knock at the door. At exactly the hour. He grinned. "I reckon we are about to find out."

Chapter Text

Is it weird to be exactly on time? Is it rude to be early? How late is late? Oh Ghezen, Wylan was knocking. He was knocking and now everyone will know that he has been standing there for who knows how long trying to work out what was the least strange thing to do. As if standing in front of Nina's door for... 17 minutes while he thought of being strange wasn't strange. He should just go home now before he does irreparable damage and they all hate him. 

"Wylan! You came!" Sweet mother. Wylan was going to need medical attention. Not only because he had just been blinded by exclusive, debut combination of fuchsia, magenta and lime green, but face-splitting, ear-to-ear grin that sat atop it. Jesper looked radiant. Wy, for his part, tried to subtly readjust his jumper - maybe it wasn't a jumper kind of party? What is a jumper kind of party?

"Jes, I am pretty sure that is my job. If I am going to put my anonymity, possessions and sanity at risk, I should at least get to do the door-opening-welcome-y thing!" Inej was now next to Nina. How did she do that? How long has she been there? That woman is remarkably perceptive - does she know that he knows this isn't a jumper kind of party?

"But maybe I wanted to see Wylan first!" He flushed even deeper at that. "I mean, who knows what kind of lies you would poison him with about my outfit. I wanted an unbiased opinion!" Well, if an unbiased opinion is what they need to allow him to stay, then an unbiased opinion he will be.

"Lies and slander!" Did he say that out loud? "You just wanted to flirt with the cute little Chem teacher. Don't make this a 'me' problem! That, and the fact that you are obsessed with taking my things away from me..." Nina really knows how to roll her eyes, flick her hair and make a boy want to drop through the floor. 

Inej looked on in faint amusement. Yes, on the other hand, was so mock-affronted that it bordered on actually insulted. "How dare you call Wylan a thing? This is unforgivable!" Drama teacher, all right. "If you didn't have free booze and also Inej here, I would leave!" Jesper's nose, while currently in the air in a show of mock derision, crunched in the most adorable way.

"There is only one way to settle this." Not quiet, not loud. Inej was possibly the only middle ground between her closest friends and Wylan. The brash, confident flirts and the tired, painfully shy jumper-wearer. Nina and Jesper turned their attention away from Wylan - Thank Ghezen - and to the pink blur that currently perched herself on a side table. "Do it again. Nina can open it this time, and we can all move on with our lives." What would he do without Inej?

"Oh, that actually - alright, so yeah. If you're okay with..." Not arguing with Jesper seemed to confuse Nina. 

"Sure, yeah, definitely." And Jesper too, by the looks of it. The door swings closed. Wylan limits himself to one momentary freak out about whether or not he should knock again - what is the etiquette for being invited in for the second time in a minute? - before the door is open again, and Nina is speaking again. 

"Welcome to my - MY - home, Wylan. I'm glad you're here." Almost mechanically, Wylan held out the wine he brought. "Do you drink?" Does he drink? 

"I do, sometimes. Not often - drinking alone is a bit of a cry of help, no?" Oh no. Oh shit. Did he - he can't have said...

"Good job you don't need to do that tonight then huh?" Inej is a Saint. Inej is his new favourite person.

"Haha. No, yeah." Who is he, and why is he talking so stupidly?

"Let's get some wine in ya, huh? Do you drink wine?" Why didn't he think about that?

"... no. Not really. Do you have any cranberry juice?"

"I can't believe that Wylan, our little, sweet Wylan, does vodka-crans like a fresher!" Nina proclaimed her pride at his drink preference with glee. He had to resist the urge to preen at the compliment. He hasn't felt part of anything in this way since, well, maybe ever?

Ghezen, how sad is that?

He was saved from thinking about that for too long. There was a knock at the door, followed by the bigmouth that could only be Matthias. Broad shoulders that literally blocked out the light from the hall. Only one vodka-cranberry in and Wylan was already contemplating what it would be like to take up that much space, to have that much power, to be in control. Well, not that in control, because apparently Nina had been sampling the fruits of her cocktail-based labours for a while and was intent on 'confronting' Matthias about his former beliefs. If Wylan was a stronger person, he would intervene. But he isn't. So he won't. 

Trying not to get sucked into that drama, he found himself inspecting the cocktail ingredients. Inej was currently trying to settle Nina, who was doing something with her hands that seemed to do nothing but was clearly offensive to hulking Matthias. Wylan was almost afraid to look for Jesper, even though his clothes should have made it easy. Wylan was on his third drink, a fun-looking icy thing Nina made him that tasted like that sweet shop off the Geldstraat. While it was delicious and strangely nostalgic, it was potent. Wylan could not be trusted to look at that face and not do something truly unprofessional. 

As if summoned by the mere thought of unprofessionalism, Dirtyhands was at the door. No knocking, no announcement that he was there, he just appeared as though everyone else had simply been waiting for him. A crisp shirt, heavy coat and truly beautiful cane. A stupid haircut - Nina was right - and a jawline that could cut glass. The poise of a politician, the aura of a criminal. 

'The aura of a criminal'? Did Wylan really think that? Is he that drunk already?

The poised criminal nodded once at the ongoing argument, which stopped only briefly as he walked in. Was it the argument, or Inej? Inej. Definitely. If Wylan wasn't as gay as the day is long, he too would be in love with Inej. 

"Is that so?" Oh, so this is how he dies. Being mocked by a man wearing a fuchsia cravat. 

"Mhmm?" A panicked hum escaped Wylan as he spun around. How much did he hear? Was he even talking to Wylan? How long has Jesper been standing there? Has he always been this hot?

"We are all a little in love with Inej, no need to worry. Although, if you tell Kaz that you know about his love, or worse, Inej about Kazzie's, we will all go down merchling."

"Oh, you and Nina are in love with Inej?" Wylan was thankful that this wasn't about him.

"Only platonically, as she is too straight for Nina, and too in love with Kaz for me. She's the perfect girl for him, though. If you can even call her a girl."

"What else would you call her?"

"You mean, besides 'Wraith'?" Jesper lifted one perfect eyebrow. Ah, so he was teasing him. How mean. And hot. Ugh.

"That... yeah. Okay. So I have no excuse for that. But to be fair Jesper, that isn't really my fault. You guys, the stories..."

"Who says they are stories?" Oh dear Ghezen.

"What? No. I mean, that DeKappel? I have been to the house that was in. Like a fortress. The Crow Club?"

"Teaching pays badly in this part of town." Wylan was reeling. This was simultaneously too much information and not enough.

"Wha- no- why... why are you telling me this?"

"I, we, trust you. And plus, you melted that lab bench."

"By accident! I said I was sorry!... What does that have to do with anything?"

"Maybe that skill set would be more useful to us than you would think." He raised his eyebrows and nodded meaningfully. 

"It wouldn't. It definitely wouldn't."

"Uh-huh." Jesper looked unconvinced. He over Wylan's shoulder towards where Nina was wildly declaring something. He leaned in so close that Wylan felt his heart stop and his cheeks flush. "Oh, and Wylan?" That soft voice will be the death of him. 'Here lies Wylan, too gay to hold a conversation.'

"Yes?" His voice was a squeak.

"Call me Jes." 

Hot damn.

***

Wylan was doing his best to hide. He wasn't very good at it. 

"Did Jesper say something mean?" Inej was a Saint. Has this been said before? Was he super drunk and stuck in a loop?

"What? No! I just... needed a minute." 'From that ridiculous dancing. And the even more ridiculous feelings it is making you have.' He most definitely was not talking to himself. 

Inej, thank Ghezen, seemed to understand and didn't push further. "I get it. I needed a minute from Rotty and Specht myself." Uh-huh. Rotty, Specht and a certain raven-haired enigma, most likely. But Jesper's warning came back to him and he held his tongue. 
But Jesper's warning reminded Wylan of Jesper and the way he leaned in, with that voice and those eyes and-

"Thank you for coming." Well, that was unexpected. She has an unnerving ability to make you forget that she is there. 

"Why are you thanking me? I should be thanking you for inviting me! And probably apologising for not being a better socialite."

"Why would you do that? At least half of us are."

"Oh?" 

"You, me, Kaz. I am not sure about Matthias yet." He was included? He met them less than 5 days ago. He said as much.

"Of course you are included. I mean, it is pretty safe to assume that Jes has already discussed the Club with you?"

"Yep. And the uhm," his voice dropped to a whisper, "crime?"

Inej gave him a smile that seemed to say that he was missing something. "Yes, Wy. The crime." Wy.

"Oh, yeah, that."

"You obviously don't have to do anything that you don't want to, but it is a fun way of getting back at all those snobs." She seemed to catch her self and the light dimmed, just a little. "Oh, I'm sorry Wy, I didn't think."

"Huh?"

"Berating merchers."

"Oh, that. It's fine. Truly. I don't like 'em all that much myself." As if dropping one 'th' will convince her of that. 

Surprisingly, she didn't push it. "Alright, well. Neither do we." That light, that he had only ever seen among greedy old men and priests when talking about their kruge, was back. A sort of self-assured ambition. She was more humble than Dirtyhands, so they must be as good as the stories - this convinced him for than anything.

"I must have applied for the right job then, huh?"

She smiled again. "You did." And then, after a beat of silence, "Come back and get a drink with me?"

"How could I refuse?"

***

Wylan was now taking stock. Nina and Matthias have been removed from Nina's own home for, to quote Jesper, "Bad behaviour. You can come back when you think about what you have done. Or made out or something." They have been gone at least half an hour, so presumably, they are, in fact, making out somewhere. He hopes they remember to stay warm.

Nina was nice. In a loud, tactile, beautiful-and-she-knows-it sort of way. In an "I'll punch anyone who hurts you" sort of way. That wasn't Wylan being presumptuous - she said that when he was teaching her how to make that old-fashioned cocktail. And Matthias had been very polite to him, so it was fair to say that Wylan was at a loss to explain why 2 pillows, 5 plastic cups and an inexplicable tennis ball had been thrown within 15 minutes. 

Jesper argues that it is cos they like each other. Inej says that that is a dangerous thing to say. Anika proved it by punching him. Now he won't stop complaining about his "wound" which means that Wylan has to bite his tongue every 5 minutes to stop himself from embarrassing himself further and making a, well, suggestive comment. Anika's "vicious attack" has meant that Jesper has appointed Wylan his 'nurse' and is currently reaching 'treatment' in the kitchen in the form of a bag of frozen peas. Hats off to Anika, she really can put a guy in an awkward situation with his inappropriate crush. 

That, and create an impressive bruise.

Wylan doesn't really care about the details right now though, as the lights are dancing off his face and he is swaying and mouthing the words to the music someone put on some point after he arrived and Wylan is not thinking about his mouth and is doing everything in his power to not think about kissing him and it isn't working and - 

"We need to go - right now! It's an emergency." Dear Ghezen. Should he throttle Inej now and thank her later, or thank her now, and throttle her later.

Kaz appears behind her. Well, at least the throttling is off the table.

"I'll drive."

"Are you sober?" Wylan looks over at Jesper, who has jumped off the table and swung around to grab his keys. He is most definitely not sober.

"One drink." Inej lifts the keys from her tall friend's hand and throws them over to her... Kaz.

"Let's go."

Chapter Text

This was not ideal. Teachers aren't allowed to be in his employ if they commit - get caught - doing crime. If he has to fire them, it will make at least the next 3 jobs so much more difficult. This is something that he could really do without. 

Not drinking backfired on Kaz. As the only person even close to sober, he was now the damn Designated Driver. There is nothing like chaperoning a group of drunk teachers to Hellgate with the intention of a heist. Inej thinks this is a stupid idea, he can tell. The line on her forehead is wavering, which is never a good sign. 

"So, let me get this straight..." Jesper decided that that was the time to break off into giggles at his own stupid joke. "We are heisting a person? This is a person heist? How do - How we will heist a person? Kaz - plan?" Dear Ghezen. If he wasn't forced to rely on them, he would dump them on the side of the road. Or leave them at Nina's.

The only person with any sense in this car (besides Kaz, of course) is Inej. She made ('as if she had to try very hard to make him do anything', that voice in his head chided) him stop at McDonald's, and now everyone has coffee. Kaz ordered two - he wasn't going back to sleep today, so he may as well get work done once the latest crisis has been averted. Inej had a tea and a coffee, which was pretty symbolic of her place in the group, if Kaz was taken to such flights of fancy. She bridged the gap between the loud and the quiet, the snarky and the exuberant. It made her a perfect second and a frustratingly perfect person. Not that Kaz would ever admit that. 

"Alright, so Jesper, you will be distracting the police outside, while the merchling goes in and requests to see Zenik and Helvar."

"Wait, what? I have to do things?"

Inej turned in her seat to look at the latest newcomer to adore her. "What did you think you were going to do, Wy?" Oh, Ghezen - she is calling him Wy now. 

"I don't know, I thought I was just going to stay in the car, or maybe drive it away when you told me to?" Wylan's head was cocked to the side. As if in the realisation that he would have to talk - act - around other people, he gulped down half his cappuccino. 

"Wy, you don't know how to drive." Well, there is a surprise - Jesper has once again joined the land of the partially-sober. Kaz could only guess whether it was the coffee or Wylan that did it. 

"I was willing to commit a small crime. For Nina." He punctuated his resolve with two seemingly decisive nods. And then gagged. Shit. 

"Good, because I need you to lie to the Stadwatch."

"WHAT?"

"You, in your posh mercher accent and your jumper, are going to infiltrate Hellgate and demand to see them. You were a victim of their crimes - whatever they were - and you want to give them a piece of your mind. If they don't recognise you as Van Eck's son, they will recognise you as some mercher's son. Inej, give him the money. This is for bribes. Only if you need it. Then you need to draw out a rough sketch of the layout, where they are as well as all exits and vents."

"Accent - Jump- victim?! I am a terrible actor. And I don't want to bribe anyone into anything."

"I'm an exceptional actor, Kaz. It is literally my job. That way, Wy stays out of it, and I get to be more than the handsome decoy..."

"Okay, shake your head for 30 seconds." He did. He puked. At least he had the grace to look embarrassed. 

"Your job is not to act, it is to teach other people how to act. So teach, Mr. Fahey." Kaz was tired. And about 15 minutes away from Hellgate. 

"Wy, you will be fine. That money is there to get you out of trouble if you need it. Jes will be there for moral support if you need it and you should try channeling every obnoxious person from your past to help. You will be fine. We wouldn't ask if we weren't a person down and all a little worse for wear." Inej gave him a smile. Kaz had the inexplicable urge to hurl himself out of the car at 75 miles an hour. 

"Okay, okay. What am I looking for?"

Kaz answered mechanically - this was a pretty standard way of casing. It shows his inexperience if he had to be walked through even this. "Corridors, vents, windows, doors. Guard changes and protocol. If you can, walk through the wrong door and see what they do."

Inej nodded. "It'll be fine. If you miss anything, it will be okay. This is to save us time and hassle."

"Why do you need the vents?" Came the small voice from the back seat. 

"Inej." Was the solitary reply. Wylan's eyes bulged a little, but he wisely did not push it. Jesper covered Wylan's hand - shaking, like an amateur, 'which he is', he had to remind himself - and spoke to him in a low voice. Inej handed his phone back to him.  Kaz stared straight ahead, willing himself not to see when Inej and Wylan's hands met over the phone. Leather squeaked as he adjusted his grip on the wheel. 

They were at Hellgate. 

One singular car in a morose car park. Jesper took the jacket and spare gloves offered to him. Wylan looked like he wanted to puke. Inej was already wearing her climbing shoes. Kaz gave a ghost of a smile - this plan may just work out. "Jesper: you are his chaffeur. You are also his muscle. You are going to get nervous after about 15 minutes, and demand to go inside. Keep your guns on you. Antagonise the guards. Don't get shot or tasered." He shifted to Inej. "How long will you need?"

"Hey, no fair!" Jesper interrupted Inej's calculations. "Why do we both get commands, and she gets questions! Just because she can climb walls and has superhuman silence does not mean I don't deserve respect." Jesper was mock-affronted. Not for the first time tonight. 

"I'll need at least 10, maybe more. Depends on where they are holding them." Kaz nodded. This part would be the tricky part. How to distract them without alerting them to the single car and the presence of other people. 

"Meet with Wylan by the car." He meant it to come out as a command, to prove Jesper wrong. Ghezen only knows if he succeeded. 

"I'll need some time to study the map."

"Call me when you are ready." She nodded once.

"Wait, she has your number?" This was not part of his acting crash course - he wanted to know. 

"I have everyone's numbers. Except for Matthias, I don't think he has a phone." 

"Kaz never gave me his number!"

"Who said I gave her it?" May as well add something to the myth. Dirtyhands and the Wraith. Inej remains the only one to be able to find out anything about anyone, including him. Just because she can doesn't mean she does, though. 

"Wylan, call me and put the phone in your pocket, okay?" Inej's scowl was imperceptible. She still hates lying to her friends, then. 

"Um, yeah, yeah." He dropped the money she gave him. We are going to need all the luck we can get.

"Alright then. Off you go." Jesper offered an arm to his 'boss' while flashing a grin at his actual boss. 

***

"So Wylan says that they are in the inner section, in separate cells."

"That isn't protocol."

"Wouldn't stop fighting."

"Will they shut up long enough for use to extract them?"

"They will if they recognise it for the rescue it is."

Kaz scowled at his phone, crouched as he was by the generator. "Don't call it a rescue."

"When we rescue them, who is driving?" Stubborn. 

"I drive my car, Inej."

"You will be the furthest away - someone should drive to pick you up." 

"Stubborn." The door to the switchboard hit him in the face. 

"You have 6 minutes." 

"You have less than that to get back to the car, Kaz."

"No mourners, Inej."

"No funerals." She ended the call. 

***

"Inej, are we putting him in the boot?" So there was a slight hiccup. 

"We are not putting a man with a broken leg in the boot of a car. I may not be a doctor, but I am not that stupid, Neens."

"I'll go in the boot." He wasn't fast enough to stop his eyebrows from raising in surprise. She looked at him, all determination and caffeination. "Go slowly over speed bumps." He nodded. What else could he do?

"He sits up front." Kaz nodded towards Helvar, who was currently scowling at Nina. Nina didn't seem to notice. 

"I called shotgun!" Jesper is going to be stuck with lunch duty every day for the next term with that kind of interjection. Kaz told him so. "Just because he jumped when he should have listened to 'Nej and went around, he gets special treatment? I could break my legs right now!"

"I am going to break them for you." Wylan and Kaz had similar ideas. Interesting. It can be assumed that Jesper did something a little too flirty or something and managed to piss the newbie off. Good to know that his directive of 'play nicely with the newbies' was being upheld. 

"Everyone, in the car, now. We have classes in less than 4 hours and this is giving me a headache." Kaz thought he heard a mumble of, 'Of course, it's us and not the two emo black coffees you chugged' but he didn't want to have to investigate whether it was Nina or Jesper. Or, given the events of tonight, Wylan. 

In fact, the only people he could rely upon not to ridicule his haircut are Helvar and Inej, and that is because Helvar only thinks these things.

"Everyone can crash at mine for a couple of hours," Nina says, as if she hadn't just last week attested to Inej just how much she wanted to host a sleepover again.

It was going to be a long day.

Chapter Text

Jesper was going to kill Kaz.

Of course, this wasn’t the first time he had thought this. There was that time on the Geldstraat, the University district, the Hutspot Incident - too many to name really. But he was totally going to do it this time, if he so much as teaches Wylan a new way to curse. 

It’s killing him. Like, really. Wylan van Sunshine, in that Saints forsaken jumper, looking for all purposes like a tiny angel sent down from the skies, mumbling something Jesper couldn’t catch about “motherfuckers” and “damn merchers”. Can you imagine? 

So yeah, Jesper was going to kill his boss, friend and long time crush because his new crush decided to say “fuck”. Seems appropriate. Maybe he would do it while Kaz was pretending not to stare longingly at Inej. Or he could tell Inej. 

That was probably the smarter thing to do. He should go find Inej. 

The difficulty in this master plan, however, was that Wylan was right there doing that thing with his tongue and Jes couldn’t for the life of him remember why he would want to leave. 

“Nina, if you purposefully kill him, I will… okay, I won’t kill you, but I’ll melt your blenders. And bowls, if I have enough.”

”You care about this podge?” Nina jerked her head towards the man she was currently stitching up, as she could be talking about anyone. Matthias’ scowl deepened. Is this a new PB? 

“Wylan?”

”Yes Matthias?” Did that little shit just bat his eyelashes? 

”Would it be fairer to compare this ‘podge’ to ‘idiot’ or ‘shithead’?” 

Okay if that boy replies… so help him Ghezen. “I didn’t know you could swear - did you get faulty programming?” Nina just saved her own wall. “You are pretty much good to go now. I don’t know what idiot manages to get the bone through the skin, so congratulations you podge, this is one for the books!”

”No” was Kaz’s lone reply. It took Jesper a minute to backchannel until he got it. 

“What?! You’re telling me that our super-secret crime spree should stay secret? That breaking these two out of prison is not something I can brag about over a couple of Kvas? Nooo…” Okay, yeah. He dragged that one out, but in all fairness, it was to see Wylan smile, so there. That’s not any better, is it? 

Kaz rolled his eyes and went to answer. “If you get arrested for being that stu-“ Inej’s arm on his shut him up. Oh my days, he is such a simp. 

“Wy, Matthias, you know you can’t, right?”

Wylan nodded, red curls bouncing. Matthias gave a sort of grunt and fell onto the cushion Nina had thrown at him to sleep on. 
“Not a bad call there Matty, we should probably all head to sleep. We have… 5 hours until first bell!” Jes announced, deciding that he would fight Nina in her own house filled with poisons if she didn’t let him sleep next to Wylan. 
“Not even close Jesper - you just guessed, didn’t you?” 
“‘M just glad to see you all riled up for me is all Kazzie boy.” Jesper’s wink may have been too much. Wylan was blushing, Nina was grinning, Inej was looking at a particularly bare wall with interest and Kaz was about to…

”Goodnight Jesper.” Oh. Okay, so Inej is uncomfortable and he drops the violence? But she is always uncomfortable. Wylan? Oh wouldn’t it be great for Jesper’s heart if they become the bestest of friends? 
“I’ll take first watch.” 
“No. You have a GCSE class first. I’ll take it.” Wait, he knows her schedule? And cares about it? “It’s important that they do well, for the school. It’s a good investment.” Oof, there it is. Poor Inej. 

They can lament over their idiot choices of crushes in the morning, as Wylan has settled down one pillow’s width away from Jesper, so now he is busy trying not to breathe too loud. Or move. Or do anything to disturb him. 

What a night. 

Chapter Text

It wasn’t that she regretted going – of course she didn’t. Her friends needed her and that is what she is there for. But she is exhausted. Climbing around on walls like a human spider really takes it out of someone and, in typical Kaz fashion, it does not matter whether she is sleep deprived or sick or every bone in her legs are broken – if you aren’t dead, you are going to work.

Or, in one memorable case, you are going. Inej was pretty sure that it was an insurance scam, or an accountancy scam. Really, she just knew that Kaz was doing something devious to make sure that the Merchant Council thought that Big Bollinger was, in fact, alive. His salary was either in investments or endowments or the latest batch of glue sticks.

It’s hard to say really.

So, no. Inej was not dead. And so, she couldn’t stop working, because in front of her was 35 expectant Year 11s with exams in less than a year’s time, so they needed her. For their English exam, and for her to tell them that they could pass their English exam.

Okay, maybe ‘expectant’ wasn’t the right word to use there. The entire first row had their heads on the desks as if their throats were slit. Inej did a double take when she walked in to make sure they hadn’t been. (You can never be to careful with the Dime Lions about.) There were at least 10 of them who actually looked ready to discuss the concept of power within Romeo and Juliet. On the one day that Inej would rather do anything else. Figures. “Alright then everyone, can we at least pretend to look at the board? Let’s begin with Lord Capulet. Villain or overprotective dad?”

Inej had a job to do. If that meant that she sometimes had to swallow her pride when the Lions trashed her classroom, or she had to go teach about early modern power dynamics on 30 minutes sleep and 2 pots of coffee, then that is what she will do. And if she got a sick sense of satisfaction from slamming dictionaries down harder than needed, that was her business.

***

Inej was never one for theatrics, like Jesper or even Nina. She was aware that people revealed themselves to you if you only choose to listen. And in this case, if you chose not to be wilfully ignorant. She rapped on a desk and straightened to her full 5 feet. He didn’t move. This was going to be a long one. Choosing speed over information, she sent annoyingly cryptic messages to both Kaz and Nina, before rapping on the desk again, insistent this time.

She was in one of the classrooms she had shown Wylan when he first arrived. The empty ones that no-one even bothers to vacuum. A head of mousy hair on ratty sleeves. Not the first or the last time she would have caught a child sleeping through a lesson, or a lunch time.

No, what was different was his back. The jumper, worn and stretched, gaped and a deep painting of human suffering lay beneath it.

Whether it was bullies at home or at school, Inej didn’t really care. She cared about 3 things right now: 1) getting him what he needs right now 2) making sure he is safe in the future 3) revenge for this poor boy.

So, she rapped on the desk a third time, aware than any of the other options could be terrifying if those bruises are from what she thinks they are. He woke, with a small start and well-practised silence. Saints.

She smiled sadly, softly, and spoke: “You aren’t in trouble. I think we need to have a chat, don’t you?” In that just-woke-up stupor, he rose and, without a word, followed her into Kaz’s office.
She knocked, for to set a good example and to allow Kaz to arrange himself like a boss, like the boss, before walking in. First, so that he didn’t jump to any conclusions about the conduct of the boy.

“Mr Brekker?” His eyebrow went up and he stiffened, only slightly, at the term of respect. Other than that, he looked the same – no exhausted daze for him. She smiled and held four fingers of her left hand against her thigh. The sign for ‘try to be a human for five minutes.’ (That was Inej’s idea. She thought that there would be situations where he had no choice but to be a better version of himself – Brekker instead of Dirtyhands. She was right, they had used it 4 times, this one notwithstanding. She was too tired to gloat.)

“Miss Ghafa. What business?” She turned to reveal her new charge, but without flourish. It was a magic trick but revealing such a sad picture required no pomp.

“I think there may be a new safe, guarding it will be difficult.” She didn’t have time to think of anything clever. He nodded once, and she gestured to the chair arranged with a uniform haphazardness by the heater. The little mousy boy sat. He said nothing. When she was sure he wouldn’t run off while her back is turned (she didn’t know if Kaz would tell her if he did), she lent in closer to Kaz. Not close enough to trigger whatever causes the little catch in his breath, but enough that she could effectively whisper “Nina is coming with food. He hasn’t said anything.” She didn’t need to tell him to look for the bruises, he knew. Of course he did. The Bastard.

“He doesn’t go here, Inej.” He breathed back.
“I – yeah. Yeah, no. He doesn’t. But…”

“I know.” He breathed the sigh of a man who was deciding whether or not to prepare for war. “Okay, fine. “Fine, I’ll find out who hasn’t noticed this, and give them one less finger to worry about. Happy?”

“You know I’m not. And no. I mean yes, we need to find out who’s done this, who’s hidden this, but you know that isn’t what we need to do first Kaz.”

“Then get them ready.”

Chapter Text

So, Nina’s day was going pretty badly. First of all, she didn’t get to sleep. Like, at all. She was too aware, too painfully aware of what happened to get them thrown into Hellgate to even think about sleeping. Which is… fair enough. She dragged everyone out of their homes (or caves, where Kaz is concerned) to get her and the dumbass Fjerdan back safely. Although, by all (Jesper’s) reports, Inej did all the hard work, Kaz stood creepily and Jesper managed only to realise how much he likes Wylan and how much Wylan was giving him the cold shoulder.
All of this is irrelevant to Nina’s getting some sleep. Which she isn’t going to do, unless Year 9 can suddenly teach themselves about ionic bonding (spoiler: they cannot). She has a fully day of lessons and then a full plate of Year 10 marking before she can even think about her bed. Not to mention the tidying up that inevitably takes hours after a party.
So Nina wasn’t having the best day.
The only think making it even slightly better was the knowledge that Matthias was feeling as terribly today also. Thank the Saints for small acts of pettiness. Well, that and seeing Inej’s number on her phone. That meant one thing – the girls were going to stuff themselves with cakes (carrot and ginger this week) and complain about what a sod Kaz is and what an idiot Jesper is and how the Merchant Council are surprisingly inadequate, given all of their money and whiteness.
Or at least, it would’ve, if the text she got was the same as the one she was expecting. So no, Nina was having a bad day, and now she knew at least 3 other people (you can never tell with Kaz and his very rare hints of emotion) were having a worse day than her.
She was on her way to Kaz’s dingy little loft with a bag full of cake and an armful of wool. Or at least, she was trying to be on her way there. The only problem was the 6ft lump of muscle in front of her, and the solitary eyebrow that seemed to pin her into place. Saints help us all. “Nina.” He breathed her name as though it were a curse and a blessing all at once. Who is this man?
“Not now Helvar, please.” Well, that didn’t turn his frown upside down. Nina fought the urge to tell him that his face will stay that way if the wind changes. She shook her head slightly – no, she was not, not, not thinking about smoothing the crease herself – and aimed to barge past him.
The only problem with this master plan was her full hands and massive bag and the absolutely massive person in front of her. She bounced off him, cushioned by wool and strengthened by righteousness. She was about to shove him (if he could be shoved, he gave no indication that he even felt the last one) with feeling this time when – no, this isn’t a joke – a shadow fell across the hallway. Gotta give the guy points for style. And pathetic fallacy (although that haircut is a pathetic fallacy itself).
“Helvar, need to talk to Zenik.” Now, was that a question or a statement? Who needs to talk to her? Ugh.
“It would appear not.” He said after a pause that was about 3 hours too long. He hadn’t broken eye contact. Nina did it for him.
“Then get in here Zenik. You’re late.” She hurried in, not even aware of how such an immovable man managed to disappear without her noticing. She was ready with a barb of her own – there was no time frame on her woefully vague text – when it was registered as completely redundant by the scene before her.
Oh. Oh.
She was late. She was very very late and this poor poor boy and Saints. Oh Saints.
His back was a battlefield. His face was an orphan’s. His clothes were war-torn, battered, completely useless in hiding the gore.
Someone was hitting this boy, and they were going to pay.
***
One hour, three slices of cake, 2 jumpers and one hastily made-up fire later, and Nina could not remember her tiredness. She couldn’t remember the fatigue of a night without sleep due to adventure. No. All she could do was relive the bone-tired exhaustion that comes from a battle on too many fronts to name. It was all she could do not to break down in front of him. Them.
Kaz knew. Of course he did, the Bastard. But Inej, she didn’t. She wasn’t there for the war. She needed to remember Ravka as home, in a way Nina can’t. Kaz won’t tell her any different.
Probably.
All this meant that Nina was sat on a printer with a cup of not-tea in a mug, staring, when Matthias walked in.
“I am in no mood Helvar.”
“What, um…” Was he, unsure? “What can I do to help?”
“What?” It was rude and blunt and ripped from her mouth in surprise. Matthias looked like he wanted to die, just a little bit, by then.
“The little golden girl…”
“Inej.” She interrupted. Was that racist? She will have to ask Jesper. “Her name is Inej.”
His mouth turned down, ever so slightly, but Nina couldn’t tell if it was on thought or distaste. “Yes. Inej. She looked upset. She is a good teacher - students respect her. And you dislike the small black cat so it must be a big issue if you are willing to work with him.”
“Small black… work - have you been stalking us?” Oh no, she was angry now. “What, do you have some secret notes somewhere? Huh? Why would I tell you anything, druskelle?”
He winced. A little too fast and a little too slow. Curiouser and curiouser. “I am… not that any more. I wanted to know if I could help. Now that I know I cannot, I will leave now.”
“Good. And while you’re there, bring some tea to the black cat’s office. Enough for three.” And then she turned in her heel and left. Saints, she needed sleep.
She grabbed the bottle behind the fridge on her way out.

Chapter Text

When he goes back, Trassel won’t even recognise him. Matthias was sure of it.

He’s sold out, he’s washed up, he isn’t a real druskelle anymore. Not when he thinks these things. He is helping a witch, supporting the little bronze girl and even starting to grudgingly respect the black cat. Djel will frown on him for laughing at Jesper’s jokes and for that smile between himself and Wylan. In short, he was well and truly screwed. What will Brum say? The worst part is, Matthias didn’t even think about any of this until hours after he got ‘home’ – sitting on his charity-shop couch, missing Trassel and, well, brooding about his day, his insane day. He wasn’t sure when he crossed that line, when he became something he isn’t. Was it before or after he met Nina?

The druske. Come on Matthias.

There was something to be said, though, for helping. Helping that little boy with the pain and the grief and the smallness of himself in a city and a country that cares not for him. Something cathartic. He would be able to breathe a little easier, knowing he had helped, if it weren’t for the crushing weight of his betrayal on his chest.

Which is why Matthias was, at 2 in the morning, at a 24/7 supermarket, staring at toothpaste.

He didn’t need it, of course. But would the Little One? Does he have toothpaste? What shoe size is he? Does he have allergies? Caring was so hard when he knew he didn’t have to. That it wasn’t his job. It was even harder because he cared about a boy he didn’t even know the name of. How foolish is that? Only time will tell.

Matthias bought the toothpaste.

And two towels. A comb. Three jean/trouser things one would never find in Fjerda. Five jumpers.

Matthias wasn’t even sure where the Little One was right now. It was hard to imagine he was with energetic, dangerous Jesper. Too different. Or anxious little Wylan. Too similar. Matthias nearly laughed out loud on his way to the checkout with the one assistant at the idea of Kaz Brekker, Dirtyhands incarnate, with a small mousy boy. The Cat and the Mouse. Poetic.

That left Inej and Nina. Matthias cursed that he trusted both to do right by the Little One.

He needed sleep.

He hadn’t slept like a normal human in two nights now. Well, more than two if one wanted to be literal about it – he hasn’t slept like a normal human since he left his normal humans in Fjerda.

Matthias needed some sleep. He paid, went home and did just that. He has work in the morning, after all.

***

Should he bring the shopping bag? Or put it in his gym bag?

He didn’t have a spare and it was bound to make his offerings smell like sweat and self-loathing. Based on where the Mouse got those scars, those bruises, those welts, it was doubtful that he would appreciate the smell. Carrier bag it is then.

It was a long walk to the school, bracing and boring at the same time. Matthias rather liked it. Any reminder of home would have been welcome, and this gives him a chance to clear his head. Not that he has a choice – a teacher’s salary and the expense of setting up here meant that a car was out of the question. And he wouldn’t be sure that it hadn’t been stolen.

What had his life become?

It was becoming increasingly clear to Matthias with every step that he took that he had no real plan. No plan at all, unless you count two carrier bags of necessities and an inkling that he should just leave them in the little Bronze Girl’s classroom (because, really, there was no was that a druske would look after someone who wasn’t their own. Was there?) and bolt.

That plan would have worked better if Bronze Girl (he should really start calling her by her name if he wanted to fit in) wasn’t already there. Which is a distinct possibility. Matthias left his garbage flat an hour early, but who knows what she does with her days?

That is something he should know by now. Why was he slacking? a part of him scolded. If Bronze Girl – Inej Inej Inej – was already there, he could always leave it in the staffroom.

Or the corridor. On in his apartment while he fled back to Fjerda with his tail between his legs.

Yes, okay. Matthias was afraid. Not of Inej, even though he seen at least 4 knives on her person – not great from a safeguarding point of view – no.

He feared the druske and Brum and the possibility that he would be away from home for years and Dirtyhands’ reputation and being abandoned by the druskelle and Nina.

No.

Nina could not be here. Nina could not be here with that young, scared, sad little boy. She could not be smiling that sad smile that said that she knows. She can’t know. Because she is a witch.

She is a witch and a druske and an enemy and she was currently feeding the Mouse a sausage roll. Or at least, she was, until they both realised that Matthias had stopped dead, staring at the Mouse propped up on a table, her on a chair and a mostly empty plate between them.

Well.

He was well aware that this was not okay. Not for him, for the Mouse, probably not for her (although it was hard to know why he cared. He didn’t. Oh, but he did.) He was well aware that he hadn’t talked with her since Hellgate, since the pool, since she almost drowned and he almost drowned and they both could have died on foreign soil. Would Brum have sent for his body? Would anyone care? His family were dead, after all.

He was well aware that something had changed, and he was resolutely trying not to feel that. He was also well aware that he was failing. So Matthias strode past them, placed the carrier bags on the table next to them, turned on his heel and fled as the coward he possibly, probably was. And then, like any good coward, he hid in his classroom until the first bell.

It was a lonely 2 hours, and a lonelier 7 more.

Chapter Text

Someone dies today.

Statistically speaking, at least 6 people will. Kaz just wants to make it 7. Maybe 8 if he has time between maths classes. 

It turns out that the little boy (epithets are hard to use with precision, but if the kid hasn't told Kaz his name, far be it from him to take that agency away) does belong to someone. But Kaz knows who they are now, bad news for that someone. Reading over Inej's law class curriculum, it appears as though the only logical way to deal with this is to commit a quick murder or two.

it's either that, or he runs for a council position.

Kaz had to stop himself from laughing out loud to himself at that one. He makes a point not to laugh if it isn't to scare someone. Keeps one's focus on revenge. 

But this fucking idiot. Come on, he put his actual home address? How trusting for a man who beats his child. Trusting that the state doesn't care enough to investigate, even slightly. He is not wrong. Unlucky for him, he cares. And Inej, well, she cares more than anyone else. And has more knives than anyone else. Not a good combination for pieces of shit, when you think about it that way.

It is for this reason and this reason alone that he is currently sitting in an art gallery, wearing purple, of all colours. Stake-outs give him chance to think. If it can be set up as a robbery gone wrong, then Kaz can take his valuables too - the school needs new art equipment, apparently - and no one will look for the little boy. The very little boy who is the same age that Kaz was when - 

Inej. Inej is here now. Looking like an angel of mercy and wrath. So, the same as always, but with more wrath. 

He did not just think that. 

"Hello there. Is this seat taken?" He couldn't say anything to her, not that he tried. Her hair was down. It was down and swept over one shoulder and Kaz couldn't do anything but stare unseeingly at the picture? art? what does one call a very boring and unrealistic DeKappel? while shaking his head slightly. The movement made him dizzy. Uncaring that he seemed an unwilling audience, or maybe just used to him, she continues: "I don't know about you, but I find DeKappel to be somewhat of a genius. This brushwork? Almost immaculate. Not quite as good as that assistant he took advantage of... what was her name? Do you know?"

"I couldn't tell you. He took advantage?"

"Oh yeah. She was only 17 at the time. His art shouldn't be shown without details of his crimes being detailed underneath of you ask me. But his brushwork is exceptional." So, Inej's cover was chatty, apparently. Well, two can play at that game.

"But what if it was never proven? People can know you commit crimes all day long, but if they don't know, if they can't prove it, how can you expect a complete list? Or any list for that matter?" So perhaps that was a little on the nose. But she did start it after all. 

"Maybe. And he died alone with no friends but tons of money, so that may be its own form of punishment." They moved in unison to an abstract circle something - existential dread. Right. 

"That sounds like a life goal fulfilled if you ask me." She purses her lips. The comparisons here are clunky, inadequate. He would never take advantage of Inej. Unless Inej is the grand master painter in this? If Kaz were to play second fiddle to anyone, it would be her. Always her. Because she is the best. You only collect the best. A part of him, the logical, Dirtyhands part of him, says. Because you have never met anyone like her, she...

Kaz was about done with this stakeout. 

"Ah, the name of the muse. Walther, no?" Well, one abusive arse is leaving the building, at least. 

***

"There is no way, Nina, I'm sorry, but I can't. I can't fit in my apartment, let alone a whole other person! And there is black mold on the ceiling, and that is why I am so painfully short and stunted!" Jesper was wailing. The teachers were on their break. Kaz was taking a break from art-house-related scheming. 

"Jes, you are 6 foot 3." 

"Exactly Neens, exactly. Imagine what I could have been like!" He all but demanded, theatrically as always. 

Wylan was red. "Would it have made you quieter?" 

"OOH Wylan has got sass! I knew I liked you Wy." Wylan grinned as Nina slung her arm over his shoulder. 

"I am being attacked on two sides! That is not fair. Kaz, will you come to my aid?"

"No."

"Worth an ask. What're ya working on, bossman?" Jesper unfolded himself from under the table, winked at Wylan and Zenik (Kaz was unaware that someone could go purple from something other than pain until now), and promptly made him Kaz's problem.

"School. Crime. Revision sessions after school."

"Normal things, then. It is perfectly normal for you to combine those two things. Perfectly normal."

"You are free on Fridays."

"Question or statement? Kazzie, you know you aren't allowed to demand time from us! It's in the bylaws." Mock-admonishment from a hyper Jesper and Inej appeared by Kaz's shoulder. He suppressed the urge to jump. Jesper did not.

"It is not in the bylaws." Inej dropped a mug in front of Jesper, turning to lean on his chair. "But it is a terrible way of trying to get people on side."

"I don't need people on side."

"You do if you want us to be free on Friday!" Jesper smiled. The podge loves it when Inej is on his side. Kaz can't agree with him on that.

"I'm free on Friday! Although my 'never drinking again' policy will still be in effect for about a week - can you have a hangover for more than one day?" Nina clutched her head with theatre she could only have learned from Jesper. "But I am willing to be the sober friend laughing at you all."

"No, no Neens. Kaz wants us to commit a..." He looked around the oblivious break room in a mockery of proper anti-eavesdropping etiquette. "crime!" 

"Oh cool, is this about the mouse-boy?" Zenik raised one eyebrow. So did Helvar, before being more obvious about his listening in. 

"Mouse-boy. Nina, that's unfair."

"Well, then. Maybe he should tell me his name! I have fed him, fed him again, clothed him, done all my best 'It's okay, you are safe now' moves and nothing! Nada!"

"I can take him." Helvar may as well have ran over to the table with the haste with which he fell out of the table. 

"What?" Zenik was going to be ignoring any and all talks of crime for the foreseeable. Kaz sighed. At least this may be entertaining. 

"I can take him. My apartment can accommodate him, and I can take him to my gym to teach him how to defend himself."

"No."

"Nina!" This was Inej, coming to Helvar's undeserving rescue. (He can almost hear her - 'just because he isn't a good person doesn't mean he isn't a person at all, Brekker.')

"He could corrupt him! What if he tells him that all druske are evil or that people should go back to where they came from or something?"

"He won't. You won't." A statement, not a question. Well-played Wraith.

"I won't." A born politician. Or criminal. Not much difference though, really. 

"Then it is settled. Matthias will take him today, I'll take him over the weekend, and we will go from there. He is on the Year 7 timetable, yeah?" If Kaz wasn't so preoccupied with Inej being the only one to call Matthias by his name, he would have noticed sooner that Inej was going to look after him for a whole weekend. It would be difficult to find an excuse to drop by if she would only be able to scale a roof with a small person strapped to her or something. 

"Yeah, but only cos I didn't know what to do with him. He is too small for it." Zenik is right, he is only 7 or so.

"We could enroll him in the primary school? Kaz?" That shocked him out of his reverie. Her eyes were determined.

"We need some fake parents. Zenik, Helvar, congratulations. You are now parents to a 7-year-old boy. Find out his name."

"No." Helvar looked like he had just found out he had weeks to live. Zenik was now laughing hysterically. 

"Yes. The rest of us are too well-known, too young or too brown to pass."

"The boss isn't wrong, but you know that, Nina." Jesper nudged Inej. 

Nina turned to Helvar - "You best find me a ring druskelle" - and left. She learned dramatic exits from Kaz.

Chapter Text

Jesper was having a confusing day, the day they found Mouse or Boy or however he was supposed to refer to the small person who has been past around their motley group of teachers like a hot potato or the bottom set PE class before Helvar came into their lives. He didn't know about Mousey-Little-Adoptee until the next day in the staff room, when Inej pulled Wylan to one side, and quietly explained who was going to trail in after Nina. Even if he wasn't devoting a considerable amount of brainpower to listening into everything the unfairly-hot-for-a-ginger man says, he would not have been able to miss his cry of, "A person, Inej? A whole person, with that-". If that wasn't enough to get Jes' attention, Wylan threw up. 

But he was having a confusing day before the throwing-up-that-somehow-didn't-put-Jes-off incident. Because of stupid (or annoyingly smart) Kaz and annoyingly smart (or stupid) Inej and Wylan. Of course, Wylan. Not that he has taken to being the bane of Jes' existence on purpose. No, no. This little shit has the audacity to do absolutely nothing wrong. Never mean or sleep-deprived enough to hear another Nina-joke. Never rolling his eyes at Kaz's melodrama. Never even looking at Jesper in anything more than friendship, kindness and good humour. 

It's killing him.

Inej was doing that thing that can't be taught where she isn't being incinerated for sitting in Kaz's seat. Kaz was doing that thing that he would never admit to doing, never mind be willing to teach, where he stares and stares and stares at Inej, meaning that Wylan and Jesper had no idea where to look. Wylan mildly looked out the window. A child was screaming as though they were getting murdered. It was a beautiful scene. That, of course, led to Jesper, being Jesper (an idiot) staring at Wylan in a lesser approximation of his boss. 

As if he is anything like Kaz. Jes' charming good looks, for one thing, are far superior to Kaz's. 

The only issue with this pretty tableau was when Wylan turned his head. 

That's right folks, you heard it here first - Ketterdam's prettiest guy turned. his. head.

And caught Jesper looking. 

Jesper went a little pink. And then winked - in for a penny, in for a pound and all that. Wylan went a lot more pink. And then ran out of the room. 

So Jesper wasn't having the most straight-forward day. But at least he got to see the way the midday sun catches on Wylan's curls when he is staring out of a window with a crease between his brow, so genuinely, endearingly concerned about the death-screams that he couldn't be from the Barrel. It made Jesper want to scream.

***

It has been a day and a half. Jesper is alone, in bed, with a book he is not reading and a TV show he isn't resuming. So far tonight, he has made three meals, eaten no more than 3 bites of each, and promptly dumped the rest. He has changed clothes twice. He has made to go for a walk 4 times, and actually left the flat once. He turned straight around. 

In short, Jesper was antsy. And miserable. And missing people and by people he means Wylan. 

So, he texted Inej. And Nina. And even Kaz. (He wasn't stupid or desperate enough to call Wylan. he would have to be much more drunk or won/lost much more money for that to happen. And it's been 2 months.) 

Nina replied. (She is busy creating a fake life for the very real child in Helvar's apartment.) Inej replied. (She is free in another 12 minutes, exactly.) Kaz left him on read. (He's probably play Candy Crush on his phone, or playing Bone Crush on his streets.)

So Jesper was pacing his apartment. And was throwing used dishes into cupboards and clean dishes into the dishwasher, before he realised that was wring and had to start again. He needed company, or he needed Makker's Wheel. And he needed that like a hole in the head. 

It would be easier if he was like Kaz. Or Inej. Or pretty much anyone who emotes differently to him. Kaz has his revenge, his reputation and his devotion to Inej. That's what defines him. Inej has her Saints and her morals and her family and Kaz. Neither of them do anything about it, which is... stupid and annoying and still better than this. Because they are constant. They are there, orbiting each other. Not touching, not catastrophic for the fate for humanity (not yet anyway) but a solid weight, a constant force and gravity. 

Jesper is not like that. He bounces around, he changes and moves and is never, never constant. He is too pent-up, too changeable, too utterly different to himself 3 years ago. 3 months. 3 weeks. 

And yet, all the worst things, all his demons, seem to remain. Not constant, because that would be too good, too dependable, for little old Jesper. No, they have new faces and new games, but that itch, that same itch, is always there, underneath it all. It would be easier if he was constant. 

Wylan is constant. He gets tea, not coffee. His lip quirks before he smiles fully. His curls bounce into the same positions every day. His jumpers and his eyes and his soft, soft, softness. So constant and so perfect and too good. 

Too good for Jesper. Jesper. 

"Jesper." Oh. When did she get here? 

It's a strange feeling to be out of one's self as they fall off a seat in surprise. Jesper would think that he hit his head, hallucinating if - in fact, no. He probably is hallucinating. 

Inej did that thing again where she is silent without meaning to be. She is small and serious and wearing grey that she makes into quicksilver. Her hair is up and her brow is creased. She is worried. And he ahs been out of it for a while now. He nods, in recognition, in realisation. How much weight can a nod hold?

She nods back, soundlessly rises, crosses the room and rocks back onto (into?) her heels. And she waits. When Jesper doesn't say anything, she waits only a few seconds more. "I don't know if this was the right thing to do, but it wasn't really my decision." She will be angry at that. Choices are more precious to her than even Kaz's secrets. "Wylan is here." 

That snaps him back to reality. "What?" 

"He is only half way up your building. You have time."

"But then how did you- how long- is he- SHIT."

"Yeah. I'll give you a second. Listen for the kick." She rolled into a stand, grace and authority. She crossed the room and the door, which has creaked since he moved in, shuts soundlessly. 

Today has been confusing, too. 

***

"I don't understand! You are telling me that you snorted milk?"

"Not up my nose, out of it!" Jesper's milk story isn't his best work, but Wylan seems to like it all the same. Inej left about an hour, maybe more? ago. Wylan was holding some chamomile and his stomach, and Jesper felt complete like that time he found his revolvers and didn't have to lug all that other garbage around. Something clicked. 

He got Wylan's number. 

Chapter Text

If it was possible for him to be in any deeper shit, then there really was a hell. Great, now he is cursing.

So imagine that you have to pretend to know someone. Not only that, you have to know them really well. So well, in fact, that people believe you are married. With a child. And a life. And a house. It almost sounds nice if it wasn’t with Nina.

But it is. So it isn’t.

The marriage thing wasn’t necessary, of course. They could “just be co-parents Helvar, it’s not hard”. Except for his obvious Fjerdan accent, that would have worked. But he is a former druskelle, through and through. Between the military bearing and the accent, if he didn’t marry her, it would be seen as strange. Fake marry her. Whatever.

This, logically, is why he asked for a receipt for his engagement ring. His. Because she will give it back once they have enrolled their ‘son’ into school. Then he can return it. That’s why he asked for one. The clerk, though, took it a different way. Her nose scrunched up and she smiled in an unnervingly patronising way. “Oh sweetie. She won’t say no. If you go into thinking that she will, she will think that you have one foot out of the door.” So the ‘sweetie’ thing was annoying (she can’t be more than 23), but what was more annoying is the idea that he could ever be nervous around Nina. He can hold his own, thank you very much.

***

He can’t hold his own. Not with this folder, not with this plan, not with Nina. It was thick. Like, details-at-least-half-her-life thick. There were tabs, official documents - is that an index? When did she even have time to make this?

“I had two free periods to assemble it today, if that is what you are thinking.”

“It was, thank you.” Politeness means nothing when you are staring at the ‘physical attributes’ tab. Get a grip, Matthias.

“Kay. So, we have been married for…”

“9 years.”

“I’m not old enough to have been married for 9 years!”

“Uh huh.”

“It has to be realistic.”

“Oh, they’ll believe it.”

“No. 5 at most.”

“The kid is 8 at least, and we did not have a child out of wedlock.”

“Are you hearing yourself? Who cares if the kid’s fake parents were married when he was conceived?”

“I do! Fjerdans, they care about this. Not that you would understand.”

“What, because I am just a dirty Ravkan? Is that what you mean to say?” Oh no. Djel help him. Not only is she doing that thing with the chin and her eyes on fire, he is going to have to lie convincingly. This is not good.

“No. Don’t twist my words.”

“Fine. Fine. Saints. He can be 7. He will need a year to catch up anyway. We have been married for 8 years. Happy?”

“Ecstatic.”

“Oh, you guys are married-married already. That’s great! Proud of you guys. Bit insulted you didn’t invite me to the wedding Neens. If I find out ‘nej was there, I will riot. Still, this is great. Nina, have a small, mute child.” So Jesper was in the doorframe with Matthias’ fake child who is still a very real child who belongs to someone, somewhere. Still blows his mind a little bit to think that he is going to lie to another Kerch authority for a child he has never talked to.

“Screw you Jes, you know Kaz officiated. It’s in the folder. Come here sweetie.” He did. She smiled wide. What a paradox of a person.

“Aw, you guys look like a happy family already!” He isn’t wrong. His mousey brown hair looks like a mix of his fake parents’ blond and brown. He has Nina’s cheeks. How is this possible?

“So long as they don’t think too hard about their Punnett square days of secondary, we should be fine.” She said that to Matthias, this time. Jesper left. He may actually have been skipping. What a strange man.

“Well, they aren’t all secondary school biology teachers.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Okay.” She was lost in thought as she turned to the Mouse. “Hungry?”

He nodded. This is progress. A cake seemed to materialise in front of him, and then Nina was holding a matching slice. She did not offer him any cake. Not that he cares. “Good. And I was thinking, you are willing to communicate, which is great, and it makes this whole thing easier, but if you don’t want to, or can’t speak, you don’t have to. Do you know sign language?”

He shook his head. Matthias was relieved. He didn’t know sign language either, and didn’t want to be out of his depth with an 8-year-old, as well as the adult, in front of him. He may not have book-smarts, but he can find a druske by only seeing 3 pictures. (He was mainly lucky with that though.) something told him that announcing this fact would not help his case. He kept quiet.

“That’s okay. We can work on that when you are settled at school. Sound like a plan?” It did, apparently.

“Do you know sign language?” Matthias didn’t register his voice until he registered the idiocy of opening his mouth.

“Nope.” She popped the p. “But I am willing to learn. Are you?” Djel damn him, he nodded.

***

“Matthias.” The Bronze girl was back. And on his desk.

“Inej.” The j felt foreign to him, which it mostly was. But at least he is learning to fit in with this bunch of rejects.

“Kaz says you are enrolling him before school tomorrow.”

Matthias didn’t know this. “Yeah.”

She gestured to the bag on his desk. It was fine leather, the kind on druskelle saddlebags. He walked to the desk. It wasn’t a big desk – Inej and the bag could barely fit on. He stood back and opened the bag in his hands.

It was filled with money.

He shut the bag. What is this place?

“Don’t worry. It is legitimate.”

He was not worried about that before. He sure is now – is his pay in fake notes? Stolen? “Okay. Why is it here?”

She laughed. Why was she laughing? And why did she have that much money?

“Sorry, sorry. You said it like anything legitimate shouldn’t be here. We are an actual school, you know. Some of this is actually genuine.” She wiped a tear.

He couldn’t help himself. “Which parts?”

“Good question.” She sobered at that. “Kaz wants you to dress like merchers. Or whatever the Fjerdan and Ravkan equivalents are. Nina has her money. The address of the school he wants you to take him to is at the bottom of the bag. Use to kruge to look the part. There will be more in your account tomorrow, in case you need bribes. But if you were smart, you wouldn’t do a Jesper on it, and try to spend Kaz’s money on anything legal.”

“This is Kaz’s money?” The given name felt foreign. Everything felt foreign.

“Yes and no. Everything and nothing in this place is Kaz’s. Like us. Like the school. This money is earmarked for the geography club.”

He is stealing from children? Matthias was incredulous. “Then why do I have it?”

She smiled, fox-like and devilish. “Because there is no geography club.” He looked at this anonymous money in his less-than anonymous hands. What had he got himself into?

He would find out tomorrow. Today, he has to go shopping.

Chapter Text

“No.”

“Yes.”

“I’m not doing it.”

“You are so, and if you could do it without complaining, that would be a bonus for us all.”

“Nina.”

“Helvar.” Maybe that was excessive. He isn’t calling her by her surname anymore.

“Zenik, stop this.”

“You have to wear it. Kaz says.”

“Brekker isn’t the boss of me.”

“I mean, he is.”

“No, I answer to Bru-“ He cut himself off abruptly. His face flushed and he was digging his nails into his palm. But Nina didn’t care about any of that.

“Huh? Who do you answer to then? If not Brekker? It sure as hell isn’t Haskell.” She wanted him to prove her wrong. Please, please, let her be wrong.

He answered too fast for it to be a lie. “Brum. Jarl Brum.”

Nina felt herself turn murderous. He didn’t have to know that she knew who that POS is. Was, with any luck. “Oh? Did you forget that you aren’t in Fjerda anymore, Helvar? Haven’t gotten over it yet? Who is Brum, to inspire this loyalty? Is he the man who gave you a job after you were kicked out of the druskelle?” That was a low blow, but with one name, one singular name, Matthias was able to bring back the terror, the fear of Brum that dogged her, day in, day out since that day. So he deserves it.

She expected a retort. She didn’t get one. She looked up, up, up at his towering face. (Nina was not a small girl, by any means, but she was starting to find this height difference annoying – she was going to get neck cramps.) It was stony, impassive, a brick wall in the face of emotion and banter. Interesting.

“Just put it on. I get that looking like a grown-up Kerch man doesn’t agree with you, but you must look like you could have lived here for years and raised a son. You aren’t inspiring that image when you are wearing shorts in cloudy weather.” He scowled deeper. But he did as he was told. Nina felt something akin to whiplash (although there are many fewer Fjerdan combatants in this insistence. Only one.) as she took in the change to him. For such a tall man, he sure knows how to slump.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, hubby.” That attempt at levity fell flat. At this point, Nina knew she was only sticking the knife in further. Any attempt at an apology was out of the question, and she knew the look of a grieving man too well to push it any further. She would give him his peace, for now.

***

“Okay then. Can you tell us your name, at least? Maybe you could write it down? Or point to some letters?” Matthias was terrible with children. He turned to her but couldn’t quite meet her eye. Not that she cared. “When do children learn to write?”

“I don’t know, I have 12-year olds who I could swear have never written a day in their lives.” He didn’t reply. He turned back to their ‘son’, clearly exasperated. That won’t go well. Big, imposing man who is upset with a small boy who has clearly been abused? Recipe for disaster.

“Okay, I’ll try. Can you go tell Kaz that we are about ready?”

He looked like any help, even help from a Ravkan druske, was better than nothing. Then he just looked confused. “He’s here?”

“Yeah. Inej too, if that matters. She is going to make sure that no one messes with us on the way there, I think.”

“How? She’s so small!” Um, rude.

“With these.” Oh, Inej was here! Finally, some good company. Well, her ‘son’ isn’t too bad, even if he is on the sullen and mute side. He smiled that one time and never fought against her country, so there’s that.

“O…kay. Let…me…go?” That was about as humble as she has ever seen the blond mountain. She let him go, much to Nina’s disappointment. She liked Helvar with a knife to his throat.

“I’m sorry if that was rude, but then, you were rude first. And it is easier to give a practical demonstration.”

“Understand. You are our cover then?” Military language on an illegal job. He is a walking juxtaposition with his environment. He will fit right in at Ketterdam High.

“Something like that. Kaz wants to see you both. Don’t kill each other.” Nina would make no such promise.

“Oh, now? But the kid?” Nina was trying to be pragmatic in the face of what she knows is coming – the ring.

“I’ll look out for him. I have some marking to do anyway.” Nina was left wondering how long she would be up there for.

***

“You understand, then, that the job is to be boringly flashy, right? Predictably loaded and ignorantly rich.”

“Yes, Dad. And we will be back before curfew, we promise. I promise not to kiss any boys Dad!” Nina gave a mock salute to emphasize her point and sat back, delighted, in her chair. Especially when Helvar smiled back. Just for a second, and then it was gone again. Too bad.

“Well, if you were my daughter, you would know better than to make promises you may not be able to keep. If you have to kiss him, you will. Remember, you are rich, married people trying to enroll your son from overseas schooling, where you missed him terribly, to here. You are in love. Madly. As you would have had to be mad to have fled your home countries for each other.”

“I am not kissing her.” Did his accent get thicker?

“You may have to. I am not having my job thrown by your prudery, Helvar.”

“Fjerdans do not kiss in public.”

That was true, actually. Nina said as much, and then rejected it when she saw the look on his face. “What? I read! How do you think I know so many languages?” Kaz is very practiced at hiding his amusement or lack thereof, but she saw it. And he nodded slightly, so he got the story. There was very little that was predictable about Kaz Brekker, but she could predict that, unless it made him money, somehow, or made Inej happy, he would not sell her out. He was not a man for idle devilment. After all, that kind of thing makes a man poor.

“Okay, then. We can abide by the traditions of my country, then?”

“Oh, no. That may be true, but it is no fun. Ravkans know how to be good fun.”

“I could not care less about this. You will not kiss unless you have to. If you have to, Nina will make the call, because the blushing virgin over here never will.”

“Right, will do. Can you give us the money now, Brekker, or what?”

“Ring first. Helvar?”

Nina noticed a little velvet box first, and then could not stop noticing it when it opened onto a beautiful, genuine, actual engagement ring. That isn’t hers, obviously, but looked exactly like the ring she wouldn’t have expected him to pick. Which means, she loved it. Annoyingly, Helvar had the audacity to look sheepish.

“Good. These people don’t know forged paperwork from a hole in the head.” Matthias winced, “But they know a fake diamond when they see one and the tech rooms are currently out of commission.” He was grandstanding. Kaz’s diamonds wouldn’t have passed muster in front of these people anyway, and he knows Nina knows that. Why he chose to lie to Helvar is something only he, and probably Inej, knows. But she will keep the few secrets he knows of him as long as he does the same. Maybe this is why Inej likes him. And her, for that matter.

“Should I-?” Matthias unsure and sheepish, so amusing only moments ago, was quickly becoming an issue. He couldn’t look like that and put that ring on her finger. Saints only knows what she would do.

“No. I’ll put it on myself.” He nodded once, and they rose in unison. They left without another word passing between the three of them, and arriving downstairs was just as silent.

Inej and the kid were sitting in the staff room. That wasn’t the unusual thing, though. It was how the kid was looking at her, and how she didn’t mind it.

Inej was lying, precise as ever, in a completely straight line. The kid was sat on the floor, resting on her feet. Her marking was discarded on the table by her head, and she was speaking. Nina couldn’t make out what she was saying, on account of her low, rumbling murmurs, but the look on her face says it all. Inej had done it again – she had tamed a stray.

Nina and Matthias, they moved as quietly as they could, hoping to preserve the scene for as long as they could. There was something ethereal about it, about this calm that Inej brought, domestic and quiet in its intent. This was something Nina, with all her loud grandstanding, all her music, and her shouts of joy, could never achieve. Matthias, with his height and his obvious physical power, had a similar blockade against this kind of connection. It was like seeing what makes Inej such a friend to the broken, battered Crows.

Now that Nina was closer, she could make out the murmurs. Suli morals, affirmations of faith, stories about how she made it out of the Menagerie, and snippets from books were woven together in a way that could only be Inej’s. No wonder the kid was enthralled.

“You can stop lingering by the door guys,” Inej said, without turning her head or raising her voice. What a clever best friend Nina had managed to win over (although looking back, Inej probably did all the hard work in making Nina trust her). “It is time to go, okay? You can come back and see any of us when you would like. Nina bakes a lot.” Bless his heart, Nina swore she saw something close to a miracle when the child looked up at her and gave a half-smile.

“Yeah, it’s… it’s time to go sweetie. Have you got your things?” Nina breathed, suddenly frightened to disturb the peace found in this shabby room. He nodded and rose.

It was time for Nina and Matthias to take their child to school.

Nina slipped Matthias’ ring on and smiled.

***

“Yes, this should be everything for the application. How long do you think it will take? My husband has a meeting across town in an hour.”

“I’m sorry?”

“How long can it take to enroll a child in school. It’s just paperwork. Aren’t I always saying that darling? It’s just paperwork?” The ‘darling’ ‘husband’ didn’t stick as much in her throat as she thought it would. Nina’s acting skills must have improved.

“Yes, dear.”

“Quite right.” She gave a short nod, the feathers on her ‘costume’ as Jes would have put it swaying with her. “Quite right. So, what is it that we need to sign?”

“I don’t think I understand. The primary application process can take months, and we have a waiting list a mile long, ma’am. We cannot accept your son at this time, I am sorry. I could transfer your file to our sister school in Shu Han, in case they have any places?”

Matthias spoke before Nina could, his voice a booming tenor. “I am quite sure that it is you who misunderstands. How would I go about contacting the headteacher of this fine establishment? I am willing to push my meetings.”

Nina would have to let the school know at some point that they wouldn’t make it in for first period. Or second, at this rate.

“You want to see…”

“Mr. Sanderson. On the double, if you will.” What a lovely ‘fuck you'. Nina needed to up her performance.

“Right, right oh. I will be… back then. Feel free to help yourself to any beverages on the table.” The kid took the ‘please help yourself’ sign literally, and had been filling cups with tea methodically since they’d arrived, they were going to run out of cups. The woman at the desk stood and wobbled away, an impressive feat given the height of her heels. Her chignon did not move. Nina mimed puking at her back in a single elegant gesture. She was quite proud of it.

They drifted over to the beverages and picked from the rings of cups surrounding their child. (He was as much theirs as anyone else’s in this god-forsaken place, Nina reasoned. No need to look into that.) His distressed noises didn’t cease until they replaced their untouched cups to where they picked them up. With a silent head tilt, he handed them fresh ones.

Nina refused to read into that.

Matthias was suddenly talking and looking, for all intents and purposes, as though he really was studying the trophy cabinet. (What kind of a school has a trophy cabinet?)

“Right, I read up on him. He’s sexist, so he will most likely leave you outside with the kid. Don’t question it.”

“What are you gonna do? Give him the money?”

“Not if I can help it. He doesn’t deserve it. I have an idea, but you’ll hate it, so I am not going to tell you.” Dear Saints, why is this man the bane of her existence?

“What – no – Matthias!”

“Hush, she is coming back.” He plastered on a smile that Nina was pretty sure was at her expense.

“He is willing to see you now, but only you, sir, if that’s alright.” Nina nodded once, irritated he was right and irritated that this man would be in charge of the kid. Matthias did the same. “Great. If you would follow me then sir.”

Matthias was playing his part very well. Nina was a little irate that she didn’t get a bigger part in this, but she didn’t think he would blow it. This realization came after he swooped down, took her phone from her pocket, dropped something heavy in her other, and smiled. “Meet me in the car, honey?” He said for the benefit of Chignon, who was messing with her nails. Then, quiet, urgent, he spoke again. “Desk. Registers. Donors if you can.” This was masked, expertly and a little unfairly, with a kiss on her cheek.

She just about registered his words before his breath, and then his surprisingly-soft-but-not-the-point lips were on her cheek. And then he was gone, and Nina was a little woozy.

Chapter Text

It wasn’t his fault.

That is what he told himself as he trailed behind the lady-with-the-fancy-hair. It wasn’t his fault. Someone was going to need to repent for what he is about to do, but it won’t be Matthias. He couldn’t bring himself to ask Djel for forgiveness. Not for this. Not for this little boy and the school and Inej and even Kaz and his insane pla- no. Dirtyhands. Working with druske. Must remember that.

It was becoming harder and harder to remember his mission, his sacred, holy, important, life-saving mission. Find druske. Report back. Take as many down as possible. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Matthias knew that this was because he was finding a new mission. To look after the little ones (although Inej would slit his throat for saying that) in dirty, scary Ketterdam.

Matthias is trying. To make the bad situation bearable, he has taken to stopping off at the sparse, illegal soup kitchen run through an abandoned Barrel bakery. He has taken to sweeping through all the rooms of the Djel-forsaken school before heading home, in case another Little Mouse is lurking. He cleans the mugs in the staffroom. He leaves sandwiches in the lockers of the students with no socks and too many layers. He is trying.

So why doesn’t it feel like enough?

It will. It will feel like enough when they have all been caught and people are safe again. His thoughts aren’t as reassuring as they were. But no matter. No time to be nervous when you are threatening a stuffy headmaster.

Maybe there are perks to this job.

“Ah, Mr.?” Miles of tweed. Acres of sagging skin. Hills and trees of books, dust-free. Haphazard and comfortable. This man has never seen war. Good, for more reasons than one.

Matthias forgot his alias. Was it an alias? “Hello. May I come in?”

“Certainly, certainly. My secretary has informed me of your wish to place your son here. I am afraid we simply do not have the places at this time of the year, you understand?” That wasn’t a question, but it was. What is this place?

“I understand your predicament, sir, because I have one of my own.” Calling this walking wrinkle ‘sir’ causes him to clench his teeth. He forces his ultimatum out, repulsed by the man who has all of this. He wants to go home – back – to teaching the children who have nothing. The old fool is nodding, expecting him to go on. “You see, I came from Djerholm. I am, how do you say…” He pretends to fumble for the word, “a favourite over there. They take kindly to me. Kindly enough that the Druskelle, well, they would do just about anything, do just about anything that I asked of them. I am a good friend to have, you understand.” That was not a question. The dusty old thesaurus visibly paled at the mention of his brothers.

“I don’t believe you could be suggesting…”

“Then don’t believe. I do like this place, it’s pretty. It would be a shame if it became a pretty bank. A pretty hospital. A pretty ruin. I wouldn’t want that. You wouldn’t either, would you, sir?” It hurt, it physically hurt, to be this crass, this cruel. To use the threat of his friends against a man whose only crime is being a pompous, affluent busybody.

Maybe he has been spending too much time in Ketterdam.

***

“What could you have possibly said to him, Helvar?”

“Do you want an answer?”

“Was it legal?”

“Nope.”

“Then keep me in suspense.” She sat back in her seat, contented and a little flush. Matthias tried not to notice. And then, “I knew you were one of us. Crime on top of crime. Soon you will be teaching Kaz tricks!” Unless Brekker used the might of a centuries old traditional bond between men-turned-brothers and a light touch of destruction of property to force a young boy into a primary school for Kerch snobs, Matthias probably had some lessons left in him.

But that wasn’t what got his attention. Not really. “I knew you were one of us.” He parroted back. “Liar.” She grinned at that.

“Okay, I didn’t know, I thought you were evil incarnate – and I can change my mind back!” She threatened in a surprisingly heart-warming way. “- but Inej thought you were good. She isn’t often wrong. And Kaz hasn’t ripped out your eye, so that’s pretty good going.”

Inej thought he was good? The Suli, the little Matthias knew about them, would not have approved of any of this. Not the druskelle, not the threatening, not the way Matthias was thinking about the other occupant of this rental. (It must be a rental, Brekker would never have a car this nice.)

But Inej thought he was good. Maybe, in her twisted way, he could be. The man he pretended he was to them. The man who had to get broken out of Hellgate, but who cares about his students and never, ever set a druske on fire. That kind of man.

Is he crazy if he thinks that sounds nice?

Yes. Definitely, yes.

“Come on then, you miserable lump of muscle, let’s get back to slumming it, huh? That was the nicest thing she had ever said to him.

The school’s cold tea warmed his chest as he took a sip and smiled. Maybe he was making a difference. Maybe he could be good.

Chapter Text

If Kaz was proud, he did not show it. They did good, it’s true. They (Helvar) threatened an old man and didn’t spend more of Kaz’s money. That’s a gold star in his book. But to tell them that would give them big heads. And Jesper would make fun of him. So he won’t be doing that.

Inej knows, of course. She always knows. She is doing that smile-that-isn’t-really-a-smile that makes something go liquid in Kaz’s core. But Jesper doesn’t know and Inej wouldn’t tell him, or teach Kaz herself, so he is safe.

Well, not quite safe. How can you be safe in Ketterdam? If you have too little money, you are at risk of starvation or gangs. If you have enough money, you are safe from starvation but not from greed. And of course, the infamous Dirtyhands and the Wraith, scourge of merchers. In fact, one of the only people who can walk freely through Ketterdam is probably Kaz and Inej. Food for thought. But not right now.

No, right now, he needs all available brain power for the task at hand. It appears that protecting a full-time piece of shit is more important to this man than his middle finger. It’s a shame really. He has clever looking hands. Probably would have been a great gambler if he worked for Kaz. Instead, he will bleed and bleed and bleed and then tell Kaz what he needs to know.

He is looking for the boy’s father. Or mother. ‘Mothers can be just as evil Kaz.’ He can here her say it. So he is looking for a parent of this forsaken child. Inej is looking at someone who can look after the child. He can’t really stay at the Slat, if the plan is to get him to fit in with the merchers’ sons. The long game.  If he doesn’t die before he is able to collect, Kaz has another plan. Will pay dividends if he can work out how to repeat it.

Jesper would say that it is basic, and too time-consuming. That’s why Kaz is the boss. (That, and that the only thing he is addicted to is revenge, kruge and that thing that In-. No. Revenge and kruge.)

He is going to raise a mercher’s son, feed him the finest cuts of meat, send him to the finest school. Get him to cultivate friendships, become one of them, and all the while, he will be a Dreg. In true Kaz fashion, he will have to learn fast, but Kaz has seen this kid’s handwriting. He is a merchling as is. He just needs to learn how to be a Dreg. Kaz and Inej did it, why can’t he?

He is waiting, procrastinating really, talking to Inej about it. She hates that kids are drawn into this whole war between the schools. She has put her knives through idiots who use kids from their own schools for Kaz to get the picture – kids = off-limits.

The difference is, Kaz tells himself, is this kid won’t be in any danger. He will be eating pot roast and laughing about Barrel scum. And he will be getting new skills. Inej is all about new skills.

He has put it off long enough.

***

“You shouldn’t feed the Crows, you know.”

“Then how would they even get fed?” She hopped off the windowsill. Kaz turned away and took his coat off as an excuse to do so. “We have this conversation too much, Kaz. I am starting to think there is something I am missing about these crows. Did you line them with explosives? Can they crack safes?”

He bit the inside of his cheek. He really should have saved the coat thing for this, this moment here. She, of course, doesn’t know about the crows, about what his Crows mean to him. Not her fault. His fault. 100% his fault.  “Maybe there is. If you can’t find it, maybe you aren’t as good as we all thought.” He allowed himself one eyebrow raise to make his point.

“Yeah, because I would be here if I wasn’t any use to you. You wouldn’t let me on your windowsill if I couldn’t do what I do.” She looked serious. And tired. Kaz had do defence for that, of course. He helped her because he knew what she could do, that she would be an asset to him in the long run. He knew all of this, which is why he helped her with her university application. Why she helped him is beyond him.

In the absence of a proper response, he sighed, lowered himself into his chair (stolen from the Council of Tides meeting room) and picked up a pen. “You have the night off tonight, Wraith. You don’t get that luxury the night after next. Use it well.”

“What am I doing the night after next?” He loved that she didn’t take offence. She knew that she could veto his orders, even if no-one else could.

“Teaching.”

“Roeder? I don’t know what to tell you, he is just too heavy. He went right through that beam and I can’t imagine that that was the least sturdy beam in Ketterdam, no matter what he says.” She was annoyed. She didn’t raise her voice, or even harshen her voice. But her chin jutted out, just slightly. That is what she is offended by – comparisons between Roeder’s incompetency and Inej’s brilliance.

“No. Roeder is no longer working for us. Or walking properly. The Lions probably have him by now – limping fast takes practice.” Maybe that was too pointed, Inej was quiet. Until she wasn’t.

She wasn’t giving him pity, she was calculating. Brilliant. “The little Mouse child.” Kaz nodded once, then looked at the revised lesson plan for his GCSE class. He didn’t want to see what he would find in her eyes.

“You want a 7-year-old to spy for you?”

“Yes.”

“And you trust him?”

“Not to talk. He didn’t about…” Kaz broke off. No-one needed reminding of that.

“Okay. Okay. Saints, why am I agreeing to this? What am I agreeing to, Kaz?” He looked up at his name. Rookie mistake. She was wrathful and serious. Tired and awake and calculating and incredible. He looked away.

“Teach him to be a spider. Pick a lock, climb, be quiet. Teach him enough that he won’t get sloppy like Roeder when he is older.”

Inej’s shadow nodded. “You are planning on raising this child yourself?”

“For the time being. We need someone who is loyal to the Dregs but won’t hurt this kid. Who will hide him for us but won’t mind him coming back in the middle of the night.” He didn’t mean it to sound like a question. Inej made no suggestions.

Correction: She made one suggestion. “The Slat.” Not a question.

“It would be worth seeing how he does there, while I look for alternatives. If it works and he doesn’t get cut up, it’s a good idea.”

“Okay then. The night after next. Should I tell Nina that the kid is going with you?”

“I’ll tell her.”

She paused. “It feels strange calling him ‘the kid’. I assume you know his name. Or the name he wants to be called.”
“Maybe.” He didn’t. “Ask him.”

Inej’s face shifted, imperceptibly. He looked down at his papers again. When he looked up, she was gone.

Chapter Text

"Nina, you don't have a child with you. Why don't you have a child with you? That's pretty much the main job of someone looking after a child."

Nina frowned at Jesper. Or smiled. It's hard to tell when one is upside down. "Kaz took him."

"Like, took him, or took him took him?"

"The first one. Do you think he would have lived if he took him took him?"

"We need to use something other than "took" and "him", we are barrelling towards a misunderstanding." Jes righted himself and pretended Wylan's entry had nothing to do with that. "What does he want with him?"

"That sounds way more creepy than I hope you meant." Nina sighed and sat on his leg. In all fairness, he was taking up almost all of the best couch. But still, ask first, you know? "I think Inej must have had something to do with it."

Wylan had a fruit tea in his hand. The strawberry one that Jesper had inspired to try and instantly regretted. Guess it's a rich boy thing. "You know he fired Roeder?"

Jes couldn't help himself. "Look at you merchling, gossip with the big boys! Proud of you. How far you've come!" He could've sworn he felt something akin to gunpowder, to the Wheel, to that second whisky in as many minutes, when Wylan turned and smiled. 

"I would say learn from the best, but that would mean having to retake GCSE English and I will never go back there again." One cool smile was all it took for Jes to lose all attempts at control or brain function. By the time he came to, Nina had figured it out.

"Oooh, you bastard. Nice. We all love 'nej, so we can't exactly disagree. Well played." She nodded appreciatively and handed him a plate. "I'm trying alternatives to mince pies. I would appreciate a posh boy POV if you please."

"Jam is good. Is this strawberry?"

"Raspberry."

Jesper was back to functional capacity. "Useless taste tester, Wy. One needs to at least know the difference between berries. Anyway, Roeder?"

"Rude and untrue." He turned to Nina. "It was leftover from the tea. The apple makes your base less crispy, but less jam would make it less sickly." She nodded twice. "And yeah. He got fired and then got dead."

"That is horrific grammar." Nina didn't say that and Jesper certainly wouldn't. He looked up. And then at Nina, who was stress grinding what Jesper imagined used to be her teeth. "I heard he was shot in each leg, and then "taken" by the Dime Lions." Helvar was smart enough not to make eye contact with Nina.

"Who told you that?" Wylan was better at maintaining conversation and trying to subtly wedge himself between the warring couple than Jesper. 

"GCSE PE."

"How did they know that?" Never mind, Wylan was not subtle. 

"I don't really want to know, do you?"

"Fair enough." Oh, dear Ghezen, Nina may just strangle Wylan to get to Matthias. Apparently, whatever accord they had reached after the Hellgate debacle of fun was gone.

Oh and now she was talking. Strap in, Wylan. "Alright, if you know so much for a newcomer, what's the kid called? Why does Kaz want him? Does anyone know who that kid's parents are? Do you actually have anything useful to contribute or are you just going to stand there looking sullen and correcting our grammar, as if you have a fucking right to do that?" Okay, not a great start...

"Do not speak to me in such a crass way, simply because you cannot speak the language properly." He monotoned, bloody monotoned. He folded his arms. Nina got up off the couch with a grace she only manages to find when she is angry. Like a lioness or a very very angry dancer. 

"Crass, huh? THat's what you are going with? Crass? I'll have you know, ice-boy, that I have lived here for at least 2 years longer than you! I don't need to have perfect grammar because I, for one, don't have a stick up my ass and-" She cut off when Helvar flinched. "Oh, oh this is amazing. Can't stomach a woman who swears, hey Helvar? So if I was to tell you to go fuck yourself, you great big wanker, you massive arsewipe, you tall little wanker...!"

That Fjerdan giant all but ran away from her. Wylan moved out of the way. Good call, Wylan."That isn't becoming, it makes you sound dumb and common."

"COMMON?" Oh, sweet Ghezen they were screwed. Jesper exchanged looks with Wy. "There is nothing wrong with swearing! I can be smart and trashy, or dumb and rich or all fucking four if I want to be. My language doesn't;t say anything about me that I don't want it to! And the idea that there is one way to speak any language is so stupid and outdated and just so utterly wrong that it is hard to look at you right now. Ask Inej, she will tell you. Or don't, or she might stab you for that. Or do, because if she doesn't, I might."

A flurry of alarms went off. At first, Jesper thought that they were, somehow, brain alarms. Deer-in-headlights style. Then he came to his senses. 

Kaz was too cheap to use the school bell system, and it probably didn't work anyway. So they all had phone alarms. He had to wade in, or there would be just short of 70 kids roaming the school without supervision, which made Jesper's life much harder than it needs to be. "Okay everyone, take some time, breathe, and then go teach the kids that we are all here to teach, shall we?"

"That didn't make any sense." The Fjerdan grumbled.

"Don't start with me Helvar, get to class." He did. They both did.

He and Wylan were headed in opposite directions in a moment. "I felt like a real teacher for a moment there, that was awesome."

Wylan turned on the heel of his perfectly polished shoe. "What makes you say that?"

"I got to say, "get to class", that's a classic teacher line."

"Not that... why do you not feel like... a real teacher?"

"Well, merchling, I'm not a classic authority figure, am I now? I am irresponsible and changeable and if you want a job doing you go to Inej, not me."

"Is this about-" 

"Nope, nope, it is not about that, nope. Get to class, merchling." Wylan just nodded, looking strangely serene, and shuffled off to Period Four Chemistry.

Jesper shook his head, mainly to himself."Ghezen, the holidays can't come soon enough."