Finch is too good at what he does to falter as Aithne clocks his fingers in her pocket. Her tone is light, eyes still twinkling, and she doesn't seem to be reaching for any kind of knife or other sharp nasty things that are meant for lopping off fingers. He does keep a careful eye on her fangs, though. Still, if she's willing to play, he's willing to play too; running would only make him look both a fool and utterly suspicious. The joke always lands if you make yourself the punchline.
"Apologies," He says, a wide grin spreading across his face as if his fingers in her pocket are nothing more than a firm handshake between soon-to-be friends. "I have no idea how that ended up in there. It must've missed while reaching for a tart." Shrugging as if it really were an honest mistake, he presents the tart from the table to her with a grandiose flourish. "Though, of course, I see now it's nowhere near the sweetest thing here," His eyes gleam with something playful. Finch unfortunately does not swing in the direction that would land him towards Aithne, but to flirt was just as much of the game as the dipped hand in the pocket was. His tone, light and teasing, is enough to make anything roll their eyes from the audacity, and he doubts this sharp-eyed, sparkling girl will take the words seriously. Still, he offers them anyway, gauze over a paper cut sting. It's a gamble, but Finch's luck has held thus far. Mostly.
--
Finch tries to flirt his way out of trouble!
"Apologies," He says, a wide grin spreading across his face as if his fingers in her pocket are nothing more than a firm handshake between soon-to-be friends. "I have no idea how that ended up in there. It must've missed while reaching for a tart." Shrugging as if it really were an honest mistake, he presents the tart from the table to her with a grandiose flourish. "Though, of course, I see now it's nowhere near the sweetest thing here," His eyes gleam with something playful. Finch unfortunately does not swing in the direction that would land him towards Aithne, but to flirt was just as much of the game as the dipped hand in the pocket was. His tone, light and teasing, is enough to make anything roll their eyes from the audacity, and he doubts this sharp-eyed, sparkling girl will take the words seriously. Still, he offers them anyway, gauze over a paper cut sting. It's a gamble, but Finch's luck has held thus far. Mostly.
--
Finch tries to flirt his way out of trouble!
