The grin that spreads across Finch's face strays close to fondness as the twins crow their expertise in the ways of little wax-paper boats, Boaty McBoatface off on a grand adventure in the fingers where she will undoubtably make her way to many exciting places and collect mounds of treasure. For her sake, he hopes she doesn't happen to stumble upon one of Jack's caches and decide to try her little boatly luck by filling her wax-paper hull with secrets. He'd hate to have competition in the indebted-to-Jack-Barclay department and imagined the twins would be rather heartbroken to see her crushed under the heel of someone's boot for thievery.
The bright yellow slickers adorning the twins are unmissable in the bleak grey of the pounding storm, though they haven't seemed to provide much protection overall. With the water dripping down their faces onto innocent (if not slightly too innocent), they look like two normal kiddos out splashing in the puddles. Finch fights the urge to ask if their fathers know where they are, and if someone's waiting for them back home with a roaring fire an dry clothing, but that sounds a little too close to boring-adult stuff. And besides, the two little monsters kneeling over the dark, black gutter would probably have some sort of excuse in their back pocket about how they're immune to rain because of their magical garden baby properties. Or something. Or they would just skitter away or kick him in the shin again, and the former wasn't conducive to making sure they stayed safe, and the latter wasn't a desirable outcome for the slippery thief either.
"Did you cast a sewer monster protection charm on her before you let her go?" Finch adds, stalking over to cast his gaze into the dark, unknowable depths he had just emerged from. The boat had thoroughly disappeared from site, but he let his imagination run alongside the twins', picturing the boat's determined sailing wobble floating down that damp and slippery place. "And teach her thieves' cant? You can't find treasure in the Fingers without thieves' cant."
The bright yellow slickers adorning the twins are unmissable in the bleak grey of the pounding storm, though they haven't seemed to provide much protection overall. With the water dripping down their faces onto innocent (if not slightly too innocent), they look like two normal kiddos out splashing in the puddles. Finch fights the urge to ask if their fathers know where they are, and if someone's waiting for them back home with a roaring fire an dry clothing, but that sounds a little too close to boring-adult stuff. And besides, the two little monsters kneeling over the dark, black gutter would probably have some sort of excuse in their back pocket about how they're immune to rain because of their magical garden baby properties. Or something. Or they would just skitter away or kick him in the shin again, and the former wasn't conducive to making sure they stayed safe, and the latter wasn't a desirable outcome for the slippery thief either.
"Did you cast a sewer monster protection charm on her before you let her go?" Finch adds, stalking over to cast his gaze into the dark, unknowable depths he had just emerged from. The boat had thoroughly disappeared from site, but he let his imagination run alongside the twins', picturing the boat's determined sailing wobble floating down that damp and slippery place. "And teach her thieves' cant? You can't find treasure in the Fingers without thieves' cant."
