We’re all searching for someone who’s demons play well with ours

Separate

and

ever deadly

Clings onto my throat
and won't let go

His evenings always seemed to end on his balcony nowadays, holding a glass of wine in his hand, pondering over the events of the past day while watching the sun set in the Smoking Sea.
The atmosphere on his beloved balcony seemed a bit... Off as he walked onto it. There was something wrong – but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.  Jasper look over his shoulder, at his guards that held their position at the door as usual.  

He noticed him from the corner of his eye.
The slender silhouette, the dark hair, that ridiculous grin, that shady black bird, that wave. There weren't a lot of people who even dared to provoke him like that.

And one of those few 'chosen' people was Kaz Brekker himself. A symbol of his own past life, a stain he couldn't quite clean off his infamous reputation. He blinked a few times, to make sure this wasn't one of his alcohol-induced visions, before straightening his back, glad his glass of red wine hadn't spilled on the white marble tiles of the balcony in his surprise.

The worst client he had ever met in his entire life was sitting right in front of him, as if he had never left in the first place. Jasper had never quite forgiven him for what he had done – taking half of his promised payment before running away, never to be seen again. He had gotten away with it, of course. Kaz was like a street rat, or better even, an eel, slithering through the loopholes of the law like the slippery, skinny little twat he was.  

Kaz almost reminded Jasper of Romeo – they were roughly about the same age, they had the same striking eyes, the same dark hair and the same sly smile that seemed to permanently stay fixed on the young men’s faces. While Romeo had grown up to be a respectable young man, Kaz was still that same old little brat he was a few years ago. He hadn’t expected anything else, of course.

’Brekker,’ he hissed, ignoring the bold questions about his locks and security, allowing himself to slowly come closer. He rolled up the sleeves of his pale grey, pinstripe-patterned blouse with one hand, somehow keeping his glass of wine balanced in his other hand, revealing the many gemstone-encrusted rings and thin bracelets he had adorned his fingers and wrists with as instinctively grabbed the dagger sheath on his belt, already feeling the cool metal top in his palm. ’I honestly couldn’t care less how you got here, I’m more interested why you’re here.’ Jasper remarked, almost in a polite tone that didn’t quite match the tension that was already growing between the two men. ’To pay back those golden coins you still owe me, I hope?’ He raised his eyebrows. ’For the transport of those brooches you so desperately wanted to sell to that Navarran merchant, remember?’ Jasper tilted his head, his voice almost a snarl as his grip around his dagger became a little tighter. ’It took me four bloody weeks to get there. Four.'

Or he could just stop recalling these painful memories and push him off his balcony already, couldn't he?