FINN
”Mm... okay.” Finn, apparently, is not nearly so eloquent upon just waking (and with sleeping medicine still racing through his system). His base functions might be awake but the rest is still buried deeply in his pillows, and will not be up for another while yet. ”It is? Damn.” His brow furrows at that, the Spyglass squinting at the window like it might tell him how much of the day he’s lost.
”I’ve got to get to work,” he says absently, going precisely nowhere at the same time. It’s hard to want to, with the strange and comfortable weight of the blanket over him, and he lets his head tilt back again into the comfort of the bed. ”Maybe in a little while,” he says of the coffee, glancing at the water and smiling in sleepy gratitude. He obviously doesn’t see the feather.
”Did you come back to wake me?” he asks softly, a little puzzled.
”I’ve got to get to work,” he says absently, going precisely nowhere at the same time. It’s hard to want to, with the strange and comfortable weight of the blanket over him, and he lets his head tilt back again into the comfort of the bed. ”Maybe in a little while,” he says of the coffee, glancing at the water and smiling in sleepy gratitude. He obviously doesn’t see the feather.
”Did you come back to wake me?” he asks softly, a little puzzled.
