when you are not fed love on a silver spoon, you learn to lick it off knives
The quiet approach doesn't stop that intuitive feeling that comes over you when someone is in your personal space, and Finn's eyes flicker open to gaze up at the pretty young woman who has addressed him. A kind smile curls at his lips, and he angles himself a little more to sit up on the couch. "That obvious, was it?" he says by way of apology, wondering whether she's serious or whether this is just a more subtle come on.
"Just a little run down," he explains, lifting his glass of ice water to toast her before taking another sip of it, willing it to soothe the pounding in his temples. "You are very kind, though. Is this your first time here...?" Perhaps it's Phoebe's absence or the fact that he is not on top of his game by any means, but Finn doesn't recognise Frey's newest demigod. And he has no spectacles here to help him; just his body and his mind, both taxed and exhausted.
"Just a little run down," he explains, lifting his glass of ice water to toast her before taking another sip of it, willing it to soothe the pounding in his temples. "You are very kind, though. Is this your first time here...?" Perhaps it's Phoebe's absence or the fact that he is not on top of his game by any means, but Finn doesn't recognise Frey's newest demigod. And he has no spectacles here to help him; just his body and his mind, both taxed and exhausted.
Finn?
