[SWE] The Feast of Bells - 320PC

Finch plays with a coin in his pocket, already nabbed from a random pocket, letting the smooth metal dance in and out of his lithe fingers. It's the first time he's managed to come to one of these things, having rarely left Torchline before his indentured servitude to Jack, but he plays it utterly cool as he strolls through the lines of table. The lines of his clothing are clean and tidy, his hair brushed back wavy and smooth, and the broken curve of his nose reads more dashing than trouble in the soft lights of the feast. He cleans up nice for a former street-rat turned renegade thief, and he plans to use it to the fullest of his advantage.

Finch did not come here looking to make trouble, but trouble so often loves to find him and offer him a dance, so he wouldn't wish to say 'no' to whatever opportunities come calling. He snags a glass of wine off a random table and takes a long sip, relishing the refined taste on his tongue. It was a good night for mischief, he could smell it. 

He couldn't help but smile as a familiar flash of a young face caught his eye, the wily figure ducking underneath a table suspiciously close to the deserts. He strolls over and before the head can retreat, ruffles the hair of Carlo, grinning wickedly. 

"Thought I'd find you here," He says, raising an eyebrow. "Is Calan under there too? Or is he picking pockets somewhere else?"