blessed are the curious, for they shall have adventures
Ever is having dinner at a friend's house. That friend, Finn has learned, is Remi Taliesin's son. Once upon a time, the mere thought of it would have had the Spyglass holed up in his office, or in his attic, paralyzed with the inability to think past it.
Now, though? He has enough research to keep him busy possibly for the rest of his life. He has all but given up the Spyglass's attic space, though it still houses his books and his blackboard and a few personal effects. He has dinner to pick up, and company at home. He has a life.
It's weird, and Finn tries not too hard to think about it.
The lock clicks into place as he nudges the front door shut, a paper bag in one arm with toasted subs inside, and a few folders tucked beneath the other. "Hello," he calls, his hair a little damp from the rain, and he shifts to juggle everything out of the way so he can shrug out of his coat.
Now, though? He has enough research to keep him busy possibly for the rest of his life. He has all but given up the Spyglass's attic space, though it still houses his books and his blackboard and a few personal effects. He has dinner to pick up, and company at home. He has a life.
It's weird, and Finn tries not too hard to think about it.
The lock clicks into place as he nudges the front door shut, a paper bag in one arm with toasted subs inside, and a few folders tucked beneath the other. "Hello," he calls, his hair a little damp from the rain, and he shifts to juggle everything out of the way so he can shrug out of his coat.
FINN
