#the fatui and dregs out here about to do some crimes B)

[greedbent]

@howthesleeplesswander || cont.

"I know why you're here."

He said it swiftly, not scathing or snippy, but to-the-point and on the ending cusp of the Harbinger's last breath. Until now, Kaz had been keeping a vigilant eye on the gambling floor beyond the private parlor in which they convened; surveillance of the chess board and all its players: if Tartaglia had come alone, how many curious gazes were slipping their way, who of his Dregs was aware of the engagement and keeping watch...

—I just can't figure out why they sent you. And he couldn't shake that nesting bud of unrest in his gut.

Kaz adjusted his position with a light exhale, and he put his elbows on the table, hands folded neatly against his lips. "Everyone else must be busy," he observed, "if you're the one here negotiating terms." Yes, he could sense it in the other: a similar humming energy much like that of his gunslinging companion. The desire—no, the unquenchable need—for a thrill.

But Tartaglia's was of a feral nature, wasn't it? He'd sooner challenge every patron here to a spar than try his luck on a few throws of the dice.

"Your Tsaritsa is no doubt aware the cost of our help will only go up from here. I know what kind of Mora she has to spare as well as I know what our worth is," Kaz warned, his cold shark eyes now diving into the lifeless ocean blues across from him. "Colluding with the Fatui carries a price all on its own—especially in the city of justice. You're bad for business. Make it worth our time."