The thing is--
The thing is, Finch knows the desperate grabs of the second thieving child is a hoax. He knows it, because he can feel the little brat's fingers digging extremely unsubtly into his pocket, presumably trying to find something exciting or candy-shaped. He knows it's just a con, another part of the show. more evidence to the frankly horrified crowd that whatever happening here was just the disastrous business of one extremely unlucky, now-food-poisoned family. The little fingers scrabbling on Finch's shirt, like Finch can hold him up against anything, can protect him against the waves of nausea wracking through his body, can provide relief with just his touch because that's what big brothers did-- They almost send him reeling with emotion and memories, stumbling back just a hair before his brain catches up with his body and reminds him that these are two unknown thieving children, and nobody to him except for rather impressive annoyances.
He dances his feet out of retching reach and grabs Vomit Child's hand from his pocket, grasping it tight in his grown-up's strong fingers. "I WOULDN'T HAVE TO HOLD HIM LIKE THAT IF HE JUST COOPERATED," he hollers, sending an impressive stink eye to Vomit Child, trying to communicate to him to cut that shit out right now. Meanwhile, Wailing Child seems to be trying to help him out in a way, pulling him away from the crowd, presumably to interrogate him and demand his candy back. "You just have to chew the peel," he hisses, "to induce the sickness. Why in the Gods' name would you swallow it?"
One squirming, wailing child was enough. Two? Two was bad. Two was worse. Two was annoying. Though, he has to admit, he finds them intriguing; the two were clearly smart enough to cook up some sort of scheme, though not experienced enough to see it through properly. "WE HAVE TO GO," he yells, making pointed eye contact with Vomit Child and Wailing Child. "WE CAN GET SLUSHIES ON. THE. WAY. HOME." his eyes gesture to down the street, away from prying eyes and concerned, cooing parents. "OR I'LL LEAVE YOU HERE AND TELL MOM YOU GOT EATEN BY ECHO SHARKS." His eyes flashed to Vomit Child.
The thing is, Finch knows the desperate grabs of the second thieving child is a hoax. He knows it, because he can feel the little brat's fingers digging extremely unsubtly into his pocket, presumably trying to find something exciting or candy-shaped. He knows it's just a con, another part of the show. more evidence to the frankly horrified crowd that whatever happening here was just the disastrous business of one extremely unlucky, now-food-poisoned family. The little fingers scrabbling on Finch's shirt, like Finch can hold him up against anything, can protect him against the waves of nausea wracking through his body, can provide relief with just his touch because that's what big brothers did-- They almost send him reeling with emotion and memories, stumbling back just a hair before his brain catches up with his body and reminds him that these are two unknown thieving children, and nobody to him except for rather impressive annoyances.
He dances his feet out of retching reach and grabs Vomit Child's hand from his pocket, grasping it tight in his grown-up's strong fingers. "I WOULDN'T HAVE TO HOLD HIM LIKE THAT IF HE JUST COOPERATED," he hollers, sending an impressive stink eye to Vomit Child, trying to communicate to him to cut that shit out right now. Meanwhile, Wailing Child seems to be trying to help him out in a way, pulling him away from the crowd, presumably to interrogate him and demand his candy back. "You just have to chew the peel," he hisses, "to induce the sickness. Why in the Gods' name would you swallow it?"
One squirming, wailing child was enough. Two? Two was bad. Two was worse. Two was annoying. Though, he has to admit, he finds them intriguing; the two were clearly smart enough to cook up some sort of scheme, though not experienced enough to see it through properly. "WE HAVE TO GO," he yells, making pointed eye contact with Vomit Child and Wailing Child. "WE CAN GET SLUSHIES ON. THE. WAY. HOME." his eyes gesture to down the street, away from prying eyes and concerned, cooing parents. "OR I'LL LEAVE YOU HERE AND TELL MOM YOU GOT EATEN BY ECHO SHARKS." His eyes flashed to Vomit Child.
