FINN
the spyglass
I’ll take the long way ‘round
”She sounds like quite a woman,” Finn remarks, following Amalia inside. The sloping walls and hard-worn countertops are things that Finn has also grown accustomed to; the scent of coffee and the feel of rough blankets - all are similar furnishings in his time in the inn. He leads the way, heading upstairs to his room overlooking the square outside, pausing by the door, his fingers wrapped around the handle.
It’s still a little hard to look at Amalia behind his glasses, the dazzling array of colour that shrouds her no less iridescent for their going indoors. Still, as he’s about to open the door and tell himself to get a grip, she speaks and forces him to flick stormy eyes her way. Quite why the mention of her husband surprises him he doesn’t know - but it does, and his words dry up momentarily on his tongue.
”Of course,” he forces out eventually, giving a polite smile (the quick sort, the sort that doesn’t reach anywhere else on the face), heading into his room to ensure that it is tidy. By the time Amalia returns (with her husband, he’s guessing), Finn will be standing by the window, lost in the picture outside.
It’s still a little hard to look at Amalia behind his glasses, the dazzling array of colour that shrouds her no less iridescent for their going indoors. Still, as he’s about to open the door and tell himself to get a grip, she speaks and forces him to flick stormy eyes her way. Quite why the mention of her husband surprises him he doesn’t know - but it does, and his words dry up momentarily on his tongue.
”Of course,” he forces out eventually, giving a polite smile (the quick sort, the sort that doesn’t reach anywhere else on the face), heading into his room to ensure that it is tidy. By the time Amalia returns (with her husband, he’s guessing), Finn will be standing by the window, lost in the picture outside.
I’ll find my own way down
