when you bury your pain
Finn focuses intently on his cup of tea as Falke asks his question, and his smile, when it comes, is a resigned sort of thing that says it does not matter what he thinks. The inevitable may already be set in motion. "I am always hopeful that it will not come to that," he says quietly. That sort of loss of life is never something to idealise, however much the research shows it is on its way. Taking another sip of tea and finishing off his scone, he raises the last bite in a cheers to the Fixer, as if to agree that they are worthy of the praise he gave them when Finn walked in.
He's almost prepared for the question when it comes, as if they both know that his reprieve here, working on these other projects, is nothing more than that. The smile he shoots across to the other man is a sad one, and Finn rolls his shoulders in a shrug. "It is complicated," he says. "On the one hand yes, of course I agree with you. On the other... if I am not doing the work of the Spyglass, someone else will have to." The expression on Finn's face tells that it's not a role he would wish on many.
He's almost prepared for the question when it comes, as if they both know that his reprieve here, working on these other projects, is nothing more than that. The smile he shoots across to the other man is a sad one, and Finn rolls his shoulders in a shrug. "It is complicated," he says. "On the one hand yes, of course I agree with you. On the other... if I am not doing the work of the Spyglass, someone else will have to." The expression on Finn's face tells that it's not a role he would wish on many.
THE SPYGLASS
you only strengthen its roots
