[se] wild in the silence

[say]”Yes, you appear to have made yourself quite clear on that front,”[/say] Finn says mildly in response to Remi’s tirade, as if pointing out that confirming - at length - about how much he didn’t care might just suggest the opposite. His lips part to remark that he has no intention of ever becoming an Attuned, but curiosity prevents him from saying as much. He wonders what there is about him that makes the Alchemist believe he would make a good bird; the choices seem... careful, whilst not entirely inaccurate.

[say]”What kind of bird are you?”[/say] Because of course he had spotted the feathers in Remi’s hair. He raises the umbrella as the other man throws something unseen, only to be forced to let it go entirely in order that he might catch the webbing. The umbrella tumbles away across the beach, blown by the wind and the rain. Finn watches it until it is ripped out to sea, then gazes at the net in his arms.

[say]”I suppose I’d better get to work, then.”[/say] Moving to one of the mounds of sand, he tucks his glasses into the inside pocket of his coat, which he also shrugs out of - even with the chill in the air, this looks like hot work. Folding the sleeves of his shirt (a dark blue colour) to the elbow, the Spyglass disentangles the webbing and begins to tether it around the embankments. He’s quickly soaked, of course, but it doesn’t seem to bother him.