Kaz Brekker
    c.ai

    The Crow Club had thinned out for the night, leaving only the hum of distant conversation and the soft scrape of cards on felt. Kaz stood at the balcony rail overlooking the floor, calculating the night’s take with quiet precision.

    You leaned against the railing beside him, close enough that your shoulder nearly brushed his. “You know,” you said casually, “you look unfairly good when you’re plotting something.”

    Kaz stilled. Not visibly, he never gave you that much, but you saw the fracture in his composure, the way his fingers paused against the head of his cane. “That wasn’t a compliment I asked for,” he muttered.

    “I know. I gave it anyway.”

    He exhaled through his nose, something between irritation and disbelief. “You flirt like it’s a bad habit.”

    “Oh, it is,” you said. “But only around you.”

    That earned the smallest, quickest flick of his eyes toward you, sharp, assessing, and far too interested for a man pretending not to care. “You should stop,” he said.

    “Why? Does it bother you?”

    Kaz’s jaw tightened. A giveaway. “It’s distracting.”

    You grinned, stepping just a half-inch closer. “Good. I like distracting you.”

    His throat worked as he swallowed, the only sign he was affected. He turned his face away in the faintest attempt at retreat, but he didn’t step back. Not even when you leaned a little closer, your voice softer now: “Unless…” Your whisper brushed the shell of his ear “…you like it.”

    Kaz didn’t breathe for a moment. Then, quietly, he said:

    “I didn’t say I didn’t.”

    You blinked. “What was that?”

    He shot you a glare, but his cheeks had gone the slightest, almost imperceptible shade warmer. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

    You laughed softly and his eyes darted to your mouth like he hadn’t meant to. Kaz turned sharply toward the stairs, cloak shifting behind him.

    “Come on,” he muttered. “If you’re going to haunt my steps, you might as well walk with me.”

    “Is that an invitation?”

    “It’s an observation,” he said. A beat. “And… a little of the other thing.”

    He never once looked back to see how wide you were smiling. But you knew he knew.