FINN
the spyglass
His continued attempt to swat her away is little more than a half-hearted flailing of the arm with the IV in it, Finn trying instead to inch further under the blankets. That also proves impossible with Tobi’s weight on the bed, and so it is a very begrudging Spyglass indeed who opens his eyes again to peep up at her. ”I don’t have any secret compartments,” he tells her, as if guessing the answer to the question she wants to ask him.
It will probably give her more questions than answers, but it’s the best she’ll get out of him right now. He rubs at his face, cheeks hot with fever, hair damp with sweat, and he sighs up at her. ”I don’t have any ice cream either,” he complains. ”Deal.”
It will probably give her more questions than answers, but it’s the best she’ll get out of him right now. He rubs at his face, cheeks hot with fever, hair damp with sweat, and he sighs up at her. ”I don’t have any ice cream either,” he complains. ”Deal.”
