Unexpected talent? Oh, this would be the perfect time to demonstrate his ability to juggle. Though he didn't think that's what the bristling means. No, people like her meant something worthwhile and wieldable, a weapon to add to their arsenal of power. If only she knew his usefulness -- his skill with a lockpick, the silence of his feet against any floor, a silver tongue that wheedled secrets off of strangers -- was the only thing standing between him and a painful death. She probably still wouldn't be impressed and in fact would likely insult his intelligence for getting caught in the first place, but at least to Finch, it was a small balm over the injury that his ability as a tool outweighed the insult of his crime.
He shrugs, loose and easygoing, as if her words slid easily off his shoulders. "I can do a backflip," A cheeky grin accompanied his words, and if she called his bluff, he would absolutely certainly do one in the middle of this crowded bar. "I have no doubt you have numerous depths of unexpected talent," He says smoothly, his honey words likely to just slide off her leaving nothing but annoying, sticky residue behind. "Likely involving the number of knives you have on your person. And, before you offer to show me your talent vis-a-vis one of those pretty things at my throat, let me just say you absolutely will not be the first or the last. I could probably guess the price of 'em from the feel on my throat." Another bluff he could demonstrate if called. But he hoped she wouldn't.
Finch leans back in, just slightly, not enough to close the distance but enough to send a message. "My question is, what is it worth to surprise you?"
He shrugs, loose and easygoing, as if her words slid easily off his shoulders. "I can do a backflip," A cheeky grin accompanied his words, and if she called his bluff, he would absolutely certainly do one in the middle of this crowded bar. "I have no doubt you have numerous depths of unexpected talent," He says smoothly, his honey words likely to just slide off her leaving nothing but annoying, sticky residue behind. "Likely involving the number of knives you have on your person. And, before you offer to show me your talent vis-a-vis one of those pretty things at my throat, let me just say you absolutely will not be the first or the last. I could probably guess the price of 'em from the feel on my throat." Another bluff he could demonstrate if called. But he hoped she wouldn't.
Finch leans back in, just slightly, not enough to close the distance but enough to send a message. "My question is, what is it worth to surprise you?"
