Six of Crows: Cloaked in Shadow

Chapter 6 - Jesper

Jesper stared at the cards in front of him. He's been dealt a good hand – hell, a great hand! – but he didn't let any emotion show on his face as Specht turned over the final card. Jack of spades. Again, Jesper glanced down at his hand, suppressing a grin. A straight flush! The second-best hand in the game! For him to get a hand this good so late into the night (well, late into the morning by now), his luck must really be improving. Usually, it had all run out by now.

In front of him, one of the two beer-drenched sailors he was playing against guffawed noisily, slapping his red-faced compatriot hard on the back. They both howled with laughter, ham-like faces sweaty and contorted with drunken hilarity. Jesper noted Rotty was twitchy, and with good reason – both sailors were addled with kvas and could lose their temper at the slightest wrong word. He himself had had a few tankards (not too many though: Wylan didn't approve of drinking too much in the morning) but they were in a far worse state than he was.

One might observe that it was hardly a fair game, but the third sailor at the table seemed to have retained his wits and was undoubtedly an experienced player. He was rich, by the look of him, and strangely familiar, but Jesper couldn't recall having seen someone like him before (and he knew he'd have remembered). Golden-brown hair, hazel eyes, a slightly crooked nose and an easy grin. Jesper had to admit that the pirate was cute, and he might have bothered to chat him up if he didn't already have a gorgeous little merchling. He didn't want to think about what Wy would say if he found Jesper flirting with some blond pirate.

His gaudy teal coat remained fairly clean, and if it came to a fight he would probably be able to use the revolvers slung around his waist. Hmm. Cute AND good taste in guns.

He watched as the pirate in question sipped his kvas and shuddered, as if he didn't like its taste. Strange... he had already drunk pints of the stuff. What a weird guy. Maybe it was just that he was having a rough day – there were bruises and nicks marring his face, and he winced every time he moved his left shoulder. Jesper could have sworn he'd seen a bandage there. On the other hand, Jesper was way up. He was sitting in his favorite table at the right hand corner of the Crow Club, he had won three other games that night, and was well on the way to winning this one. He was having one of those streaks where everything seemed to run perfectly, leaving him hungry for more.

"Gentlemen? Any final bids?" inquired Rotty. He was eager to be off, having been dealing for nearly all the night. Jesper knew this because he'd been here all night too. He'd come in at twelve bells, high on adrenaline from a gun fight with a few members of the new gang - the Lost. Those scrapes had become increasingly common over the past few months, and Wylan was becoming concerned, but Jesper was more worried about Kaz. Ever since the Lost was formed, Kaz had been more on edge, more reckless, more willing to take risks.

Wylan thought he had it bad, but Wy wasn't the one waiting for hours after Kaz had said he would get back, only for him to limp in, covered in blood, a bullet in his side; Wy wasn't the one who would walk into Kaz's room at two bells in the morning having seen light under his door, finding him still scribbling feverishly at some long list of numbers; Wy wasn't the one having to lie in bed in the Slat when a job had stretched out into the early hours of the morning and he was too tired to walk back to the Van Eck house, listening to Kaz yell cuss words and scream in his sleep. The other Dregs knew that Kaz's carefully structured façade had started to fall apart, but they either kept silent or murmured about who would step up as leader of the Dregs when Dirtyhands finally faded away.

Of course, Inej having up and gone like that wasn't helping.

"Gentlemen?"

"Nah, check," the pirate said, stretching and yawning. He exuded confidence - definitely a good hand.