they laughing at the top like they can't see the bottom

Mateo

Champagne, cocaine, gasoline
and most things in between

"Then I look forward to using them," Mateo says with a lopsided smile that shows one dimple, reaching out to shake Finch's hand in a grip that's surprisingly warm and gentle - or perhaps not, given his work with delicate petals and fragile root systems. "You will have to let me know how best to reach you after this, unless you intend for me to find you here again when I have need of your skills?" His eyebrows raise in amusement; he wouldn't be adverse to combing The Last Word for the thief when he's got a favour that needs cashing in, but he's liable to get distracted or in other sorts of tomfoolery while he's at it.

Finch's empty glass hits the counter with a gentle clack, and Mateo's soon follows suit as if taking the lead from the other man on the pace of their drinking. "My sister will be thrilled to hear it," he croons, smoothly rising to his feet. "Shall we, then?" He spends a few moments arranging the newly repotted seedlings in spaces where they will get adequate light without being roasted by the (eventual) Torchline sun before gesturing for the door and leading the way out. 

They emerge into the downpour, Mateo eyeing it like it's the first time he's seeing it, and he scoffs out a laugh. "You don't mind getting wet, right?"

I roam the city in a shopping cart
a pack of Camels and a smoke alarm