" welcome back to ketterdam, captain ghafa. " she has to enter through the door since he has closed his window, and even if she tries to be silent, he can feel her presence. she has been gone for long but he doesn't allow himself to wait by the harbour. he won't mention the purple flowers by his desk either.
she has half a mind to chide him for closing the window — and locking it. not that she's out of practice, her targets had required a few doors and traps picked here and there, but this particular lock had always evaded her. she isn't sure if she's upset about it — of course it would be locked. without the wraith collecting secrets and making use of the practical entrance, there is no telling who else could attempt a fool's mission. and so she quietly makes her way through the slat and its stairs, every move as familiar as muscle memory. and she doesn't bother knocking, she tries to maintain some element of surprise but it seems not even time could allow her such indulgences.
❝ hello, kaz. ❞ the door closes behind her with a click, and she places her small bag on the floor against the wall, along with her hat. her tongue holds onto the brief mention of disappointment at his lack of a presence at the docks, but she would admit to herself and only herself that the anticipation finally meeting him at the slat was saturated enough. small steps bring her closer, and she makes note of the flowers on his desk, pulse briefly spiking, ❝ did you develop a liking for these flowers or are they meant for me ? ❞ she's careful with her words, her movements — even as she daringly perches herself over the edge of his desk, pads of fingers tracing the petals. ❝ you were missed. ❞ at the harbor, she leaves unsaid. but she knows him. perhaps their reunion was better handled without wandering eyes and other spiders running about.
gaze flickers towards his countenance — his haircut is new, she can tell that much. she wonders if he still cut it himself or if he found another pair of trustworthy hands to handle shears around his neck ? he looks the same, just doused with time and the weight of their kruge. ❝ the flowers are beautiful. ❞ she finally adds, blood rushing to her cheeks. ❝ thank you. ❞
