when you are not fed love on a silver spoon, you learn to lick it off knives
With pupils already blown, Finn's eyes merely look darker than usual in the dim light of the Halenani, and he brings the wine to his lips to savour it. It leaves them a rich shade of plum, when he lowers the glass, and given that the rest of what he wears is as pale and opulent as the brothel around him, it makes them stand out against skin that is only lightly tanned. The sound of a nearby voice cuts through the music and the chit-chat, and Finn raises his gaze to a woman standing over him where he lounges.
"Thomas," he says easily, shifting a leg so she might take a seat between his thighs. "What's yours?" It's true that Finn only ever services men - or at least that was true when he'd been working at Mother Molly's - but that doesn't mean he doesn't know how to treat others.
"Thomas," he says easily, shifting a leg so she might take a seat between his thighs. "What's yours?" It's true that Finn only ever services men - or at least that was true when he'd been working at Mother Molly's - but that doesn't mean he doesn't know how to treat others.
Finn?
