memory’s so treacherous
The name rings distantly in Finn’s mind. They haven’t met, but he does know this man. Sunjata, the Arbiter, the man touched by Safrin - but Finn doesn’t expect a smile so sharp on a man like this. A ripple of tension moves through him automatically, his overtired mind still awake to being scrutinised, to the possibility of being threatened. Blinking hard, he sits up properly in his seat, neck stiff, back aching, and reaches for his whiskey to take a generous sip.
”Finn Rosencrantz,” he supplies in return, the burn of the liquid somehow cooling him down, persuading the gears and cogs that make him up to turn a little slower. ”Thank you for waking me. I must have drifted off without realising it.” His hands are already gathering the notes into a neat pile, Finn looking at the paper rather than the man.
”Finn Rosencrantz,” he supplies in return, the burn of the liquid somehow cooling him down, persuading the gears and cogs that make him up to turn a little slower. ”Thank you for waking me. I must have drifted off without realising it.” His hands are already gathering the notes into a neat pile, Finn looking at the paper rather than the man.
one moment you’re lost in a carnival of delights
the next, it leads you somewhere you don’t want to go
FINN
