Uh oh. Finch likes this guy. He likes the way the easy, humble charm falls from his lips, taking a big swig of the offered swill with a muted wince and still defended his sister’s honor even after tasting the brackish mud-liquor. He’s seen the purple-covered skyboat and is equal parts impressed and suspicious Mateo offered knowledge of his ownership to the crooked-nosed thief; he either saw something trustworthy in Finch that was buried so deep in the sand and slime that seemed to stick to him from the backwater of the Fingers that even he didn’t see it; or, he was powerful enough not to fear a spindly little bastard trying to slip into his house.
Either way, Finch was intrigued, perhaps against his better instincts. He had planned this meeting to go curt and anonymously, a simple exchange of favor for deadly substance and then he’d be on his merry way, significantly deadlier than he had been before and his identity still intact. Dark eyes narrow at the request for his name just slightly and he tries to parse the tone, look for the hidden motives. He can't detect any malice or suspicion in his light voice, nor in the dimples settled into Mateo's cheeks. And to invite the thief into his house...? He was either cocky, stupid, or for some reason, didn't mind Finch going into his home.
He could work with that.
"Sparrow," He offers, the fake name leaving his tongue light and easy and only a shade away from truth. Even with the offered trust and drink, they were still dealing in instruments of death, and Finch wasn't quite sure how many others were involved in Mateo's business. "And I'll take whatever you recommend. Perhaps slightly better swill than what I had been drinking."
Either way, Finch was intrigued, perhaps against his better instincts. He had planned this meeting to go curt and anonymously, a simple exchange of favor for deadly substance and then he’d be on his merry way, significantly deadlier than he had been before and his identity still intact. Dark eyes narrow at the request for his name just slightly and he tries to parse the tone, look for the hidden motives. He can't detect any malice or suspicion in his light voice, nor in the dimples settled into Mateo's cheeks. And to invite the thief into his house...? He was either cocky, stupid, or for some reason, didn't mind Finch going into his home.
He could work with that.
"Sparrow," He offers, the fake name leaving his tongue light and easy and only a shade away from truth. Even with the offered trust and drink, they were still dealing in instruments of death, and Finch wasn't quite sure how many others were involved in Mateo's business. "And I'll take whatever you recommend. Perhaps slightly better swill than what I had been drinking."
