six of crows bot

welcome to the socbot my friends! this bot will (eventually) (hopefully) (i have adhd) post quotes from the whole crows duology every half hour

“Besides, Wylan isn’t just good with the flint and fuss. He’s our insurance.” “Against what?” asked Nina. “Meet Wylan Van Eck,” said Kaz Brekker as the boy’s cheeks flooded crimson. “Jan Van Eck’s son and our guarantee on thirty million kruge.”

“That may have been true once, Nina, but it’s been a very long year. Helvar is much changed.” “You’ve seen him?” Her green eyes were wide, eager. /There/, thought Kaz, /the Barrel hasn’t beaten the hope out of you yet/.

'You’ve never seen a fighter survive until now,' he corrected himself. 'The bronze girl’s daggers merit watching.'

The frenetic energy of Jesper’s lanky frame seemed to drop away. He went as still as Nina had ever seen him, and his gaze focused on Inej for the first time since he’d entered the little cabin. He was avoiding it, Nina realised. He didn’t want to look at her.

Wylan had turned back to his work, his disappointment obvious. For some reason, Jesper felt a little disappointed, too.

“Why did you save me?” he asked finally. “Stop wasting energy. Don’t talk.” “Why did you do it?” “Because you’re a human being,” she said angrily.

“Those guns are there to stop invading armadas,” Jesper said confidently. “Good luck hitting a skinny little schooner cutting through the waves bound for fortune and glory.” “I’ll quote you on that when a cannonball lands in my lap,” said Nina.

“By then the thief is somewhere safe, counting up his scrub.” Wylan shifted unhappily in his chair. “Duping innocent people isn’t something to be proud of.” “It is if you do it well.”

“Why not?” she’d repeated, eyes still closed. He said the first thing that popped into his head. “They don’t have any manners.” “Neither do you, Kaz.” She’d laughed, and if he could have bottled the sound and got drunk on it every night, he would have. It terrified him.

“You’ll get what’s coming to you some day, Brekker.” “I will,” said Kaz, “if there’s any justice in the world. And we all know how likely that is.”

Her eyes were so brown they were almost black, and for once her hair was down. She always wore it tied back in a ruthlessly tight coil. Even the idea of being this near someone should have set his skin crawling. Instead he thought, /What happens if I move closer?/

“Wylan is new to the scene,” admitted Brekker. “Of course he’s new, he looks like he’s about twelve,” retorted Matthias. “I’m sixteen,” said Wylan sullenly. Matthias doubted that. Fifteen at the most.

He took a deep breath and threw his weight at the bronze girl. She stepped aside as if she’d known he was coming, languidly hooking her heel behind his ankle. Matthias let out a loud grunt as he landed hard on the stones. “Clumsy, this one,” the bronze girl said impassively.

“It’s not a compliment. I’m nothing like him. I don’t belong here.” “No arguments from me.” “And you don’t belong here, either.” “I beg your pardon, merchling?”

“What the hell just happened?” Jesper asked. He was leaning against the railing, his rifle beside him, hair dishevelled, pupils dilated. He seemed almost drunk, or like he’d just rolled out of someone’s bed. He always had that look after a fight.

He wasn’t interested in flirting with Nina Zenik, and he happened to know she wasn’t remotely interested in him. Nina just liked to flirt with everything. He’d once seen her make eyes at a pair of shoes she fancied in a shop window.

Or maybe they’d been scared away by the food – herring in rancid oil, stale black bread, and some kind of butter that looked distinctly mossy. Jesper looked down at his plate and moaned. “Kaz, if you want me dead, I prefer a bullet to poison.”

“It’s not natural for women to fight.” “It’s not natural for someone to be as stupid as he is tall, and yet there you stand. Did you really swim all those miles just to die in this hut?”

“And what will this valuable information cost me?” “I don’t want your money. I’ll give you the plans for nothing.” It shamed Matthias to say the words, but he spoke them anyway. “If you let me kill Nina Zenik.”

She lifted her hands, and Matthias felt his eyelids grow heavy as she dragged him into unconsciousness. “Kill you,” he mumbled. “Sleep well.” Her voice was a wolf, dogging his steps. It chased him into the dark.