you are a terribly real thing in a terribly false world
Falke brings Finn tea - and whilst the Spyglass doesn’t have the words to express that sort of gratitude in a way that makes them seem like more than they are, more than doctor and patient, he feels it nonetheless. ”Milk, no sugar please,” he reminds the other man, forcing himself to settle in his seat no matter how much he doesn’t want to. Call it strange, but the room at the inn has become something of a sanctuary to him; it feels odd to have a reminder of reality come in to perform a check up.
His smile at the question bounced back at him is hardly that; it’s an expression that doesn’t come close to the eyes. ”Because I didn’t know,” he says simply, teasing at a loose thread on the arm of his chair. Because it’s foolish or dangerous to come without letting Dorian or Cian know about it. It’s par for the course for Finn. ”How are things at home?” Ah, deflection. A well worn trick, and they both know it.
His smile at the question bounced back at him is hardly that; it’s an expression that doesn’t come close to the eyes. ”Because I didn’t know,” he says simply, teasing at a loose thread on the arm of his chair. Because it’s foolish or dangerous to come without letting Dorian or Cian know about it. It’s par for the course for Finn. ”How are things at home?” Ah, deflection. A well worn trick, and they both know it.
and that, I believe
is why you are in so much pain
FINN
