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[acaseofyou]

they say that death is a tragedy it comes once, and it's over

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[acaseofyou]

Sometimes, after their conversations, Birdie wonders about how much more open she gets to be. Never in the moment, though. In the moment it simply is what it is, a perfectly strange inversion of how she usually operates, all her physicality of affection replaced with near complete honesty marred by choice omissions more for the benefit of others than herself.

He is, though, very good at getting her to smile. There's more to him than the things he can do, but this is her favorite.

"Yeah," and that smile widens when Kaz explains about the surface and the pool. "Just like that." Granted, those collective pools are harder to find than the surface, but she holds onto them much as she can when she finds them in people. Kaz is one of them, much to her own personal satisfaction.

The music keeps on, but the mood around it is brighter than before. Or, at least less melancholy after Kaz has his say about it. He's right, there's always work to be done, always a new song ahead to sing. Maybe not right from her, but from someone. "No, it's not over yet. And the boring and useless at the top can come tumbling down eventually."

[noreasonneeded]

While he’s only a very beginner at playing music, he’s always liked the phrase in tune. He’s not above scavenging language like he does other parts when it makes sense, and the analogy of the term fits so well in different settings. Kaz has always felt in tune with reading a person’s wants and needs, with figuring out what makes them tick. It’s not foolproof, but for a person who’s closed himself off to emotions for so much of his life, he’s seen the value in understanding those of others. Birdie’s had years of experience fitting into different eras and worlds, but she’s been open enough with him to pick up on what she’s been willing to share. At the very least, he’s made the effort to follow along, and she’s one of the rare cases of being his friend to where he doesn’t plan on using it against her.

The mood in the room shifts, bringing a new hue to the songs playing. He’s never much sought to find nuance in musical sounds, but he can appreciate the layers that songs provide depending on what a person is bringing to their side of listening to them. “I’m certainly ready for such a fight. Don’t know who I’d be without one, and I’m fine not finding out.” It’s mostly true. There are moments where his past makes him doubt the violent man he’s become, but by and large, Kaz is settled into the role he willingly fills. Into what he can accomplish as Dirtyhands, as a Brekker.

He rolls his cane between his fingers in time to the tune, still perched sitting on the edge of his desk. She’s not staring at the record player, not as seemingly lost in another time as she had been a few moments ago. She’s sharing a piece of her with him, and it hasn’t gone unnoticed. It hasn’t come without a price, and he gets that, too. “I’m gonna get greedy now, though. When you put out new songs, you’ll have to let me know if it’s not in Ketterdam. Send a text, or a news article, about how people rallied against the dying of the night while listening to a certain protest song. Long as I’m around I’ll listen. It might do both of us some good.”