Finch's tongue runs over his teeth inside his mouth, as if he were measuring fangs of his own. His scar twists up as his smile curves into something hungry and glinting. There's no curiosity laden in her tone, and she's clearly not expecting an interesting answer, so Finch has no need to give her one. This is not a job interview. He will not prance out his resume of thievery and trickery, nor would that be wise for someone who needs to stay as spry and slippery as he does. If he leaves this bar a mystery to her, especially as someone who projects such dangerous stillness, he still has something he can utilize.
Pushing off from where he lounges against the counter, his feet begin to dance gracefully away, silent as a roiling collection of clouds in a winter sky. He keeps her out of the corner of her eye, back half-turned but still coiled and ready to anticipate anything; one does not turn their back on a crouching predator. A card flicks from the inside of his sleeve, appearing with the graceful flourish of fingers and he flicks it onto the counter where it lands to the sticky surface with a slight scrape. It's stained and slightly damp, but more importantly, the woman would recognize it from the gambling table she spent her night cleaning up: a shining ace card winks at her, a bright flash of white against the dark wood of the bar.
"Plenty of things," He echoes her words over his shoulder as he ghosts away, voice quiet and edged, light but not mocking. "But telling you would defeat the purpose."
Pushing off from where he lounges against the counter, his feet begin to dance gracefully away, silent as a roiling collection of clouds in a winter sky. He keeps her out of the corner of her eye, back half-turned but still coiled and ready to anticipate anything; one does not turn their back on a crouching predator. A card flicks from the inside of his sleeve, appearing with the graceful flourish of fingers and he flicks it onto the counter where it lands to the sticky surface with a slight scrape. It's stained and slightly damp, but more importantly, the woman would recognize it from the gambling table she spent her night cleaning up: a shining ace card winks at her, a bright flash of white against the dark wood of the bar.
"Plenty of things," He echoes her words over his shoulder as he ghosts away, voice quiet and edged, light but not mocking. "But telling you would defeat the purpose."
