finn
it always feels more quiet in the dark
In the time it has taken for the knock to arrive on the door of 302, Finn has at least finished dressing himself, and he's watching the sickly light grow a touch brighter from the window, though it doesn't seem to make a difference to the shadows that stretch up the wall. With a cigarette between his fingers and a frown that could darken even the brightest doorway, he certainly cuts an imposing figure, especially for a man who isn't particularly imposing.
And the facade breaks completely when the knock does come. Stubbing out the cigarette and softly exhaling the smoke, he moves through thick silence to let his new secretary into his office. "Good morning, miss," he greets, stepping aside for her to enter. He doesn't look at her, not quite. "Your desk is set up by the window. I trust you will find everything suitable for you."
The desk is, indeed, set up by the window where he'd been smoking. And it doesn't look as if it has ever been used, honestly. Finn doesn't need a secretary, as he has said.
And the facade breaks completely when the knock does come. Stubbing out the cigarette and softly exhaling the smoke, he moves through thick silence to let his new secretary into his office. "Good morning, miss," he greets, stepping aside for her to enter. He doesn't look at her, not quite. "Your desk is set up by the window. I trust you will find everything suitable for you."
The desk is, indeed, set up by the window where he'd been smoking. And it doesn't look as if it has ever been used, honestly. Finn doesn't need a secretary, as he has said.
it always feels so stark
