finn
it always feels more quiet in the dark
"I'm quite alright, miss," Finn murmurs, suddenly aware of the fact that he hasn't asked her name and he doesn't plan to. It's more of an oversight, admittedly, than a slight, but he's still of the opinion that he does not need a secretary. And no - there is no coffee pot. There is very little of anything, in fact. Should Finn require anything, he usually goes into the adjoining apartment. Because it's usually only him in the office.
Because he does not need a secretary.
"Alright. I will see you in a couple of hours, then," he murmurs, grabbing his coat and hat and donning both, checking for keys, cigarettes, wallet and notepad. And then he's simply away, clicking the door behind him and leaving his new addition in relative silence.
And Finn does return in a couple of hours, it's true. Only when he steps back in through the doors of the fire headquarters at midmorning, the sky is black. And there's a truly terrible storm, even though it's barely mid-February. Stepping into the office, soaked to the bone and with a very jagged cut on his face as if from a talon (or a fingernail?), he seems puzzled that there's company.
"Ah. You are still here."
Because he does not need a secretary.
"Alright. I will see you in a couple of hours, then," he murmurs, grabbing his coat and hat and donning both, checking for keys, cigarettes, wallet and notepad. And then he's simply away, clicking the door behind him and leaving his new addition in relative silence.
And Finn does return in a couple of hours, it's true. Only when he steps back in through the doors of the fire headquarters at midmorning, the sky is black. And there's a truly terrible storm, even though it's barely mid-February. Stepping into the office, soaked to the bone and with a very jagged cut on his face as if from a talon (or a fingernail?), he seems puzzled that there's company.
"Ah. You are still here."
it always feels so stark
