"Gods forbid," He laughs at Mateo's hypothetical scenario of being drenched all by himself. A true nightmare. Good thing Finch was tricky enough to find himself in constant company, whether that be a crowded street of pockets to pick, a jail cell after said endeavor, or in the companionship of someone interesting and charming. Or someone who wanted to kill him. Often those two overlapped.
The walk to Mateo's place doesn't seem too far, with Finch following a half-step behind to let Mateo take the lead. If this handsome man with the dark curls and kind eyes were leading him off a cliff, Finch was too committed to this to do anything but follow. But, true to his word, there's a hint of purple schooner if Finch cranes his head just so, a tad ominous where it looms just off in the distant rain and fog. Yeah, this was looking more and more like one of those ghost stories they tell to children about the dangers of wandering off with strangers. If he disappeared him, the only one who would likely miss him was Jack, and he'd only be pissed someone else destroyed his property before Finch's warranty was up. It would be nice to be missed, even if it was in the way someone missed their wallet or a particularly trusty dagger.
"I don't mind a walk," Finch says. He spends so much time hunched behind people to creep up on them, or running, or scuttling, or trying not to slip and eat shit in the sewers, that it's nice to stretch his legs every so often. He knows how to walk without sneaking, thank you very much. Still, his feet are silent behind Mateo's, even the splashes of puddles meeting his feet somehow disguised. "'sides, good company makes the walk go faster."
The walk to Mateo's place doesn't seem too far, with Finch following a half-step behind to let Mateo take the lead. If this handsome man with the dark curls and kind eyes were leading him off a cliff, Finch was too committed to this to do anything but follow. But, true to his word, there's a hint of purple schooner if Finch cranes his head just so, a tad ominous where it looms just off in the distant rain and fog. Yeah, this was looking more and more like one of those ghost stories they tell to children about the dangers of wandering off with strangers. If he disappeared him, the only one who would likely miss him was Jack, and he'd only be pissed someone else destroyed his property before Finch's warranty was up. It would be nice to be missed, even if it was in the way someone missed their wallet or a particularly trusty dagger.
"I don't mind a walk," Finch says. He spends so much time hunched behind people to creep up on them, or running, or scuttling, or trying not to slip and eat shit in the sewers, that it's nice to stretch his legs every so often. He knows how to walk without sneaking, thank you very much. Still, his feet are silent behind Mateo's, even the splashes of puddles meeting his feet somehow disguised. "'sides, good company makes the walk go faster."
