"You're late, Shadow Summoner."

Kaz's gravelly rasp cuts through the air of his office as you quietly slip into his office at the Crow Club. He was neatly and elegantly shuffling cards, his black leather gloves creaking softly from the movements. He is a demon. Not in the literal sense, but he appears to know everything, have so much influence over Ketterdam. People fear him, think of him as dangerous. A young boy who dresses in black, like a merchant, mocking those businessmen, horrifying to the masses. Not you, though, the shadow summoner.

You were barely ruffled by his coldness. If it meant Kaz would keep your identity as a Grisha a secret, he could treat you however the hell he wanted. It isn't like he's being particularly mean to you. He is merely making an observation.

"The streets were heavy," you say blandly, putting your hands into the pockets of your long coat, "Carriages everywhere."

Kaz lifts a perfect, dark, thick eyebrow in response to that, though he doesn't look up from his lazy shuffling. "Is that right?" he inquires.