sleep doesn't help if it's your soul that's tired
Stormy eyes blink in sudden realisation; Finn's smile is awkward, a touch embarrassed, and he nods to her. "Of course," he says, though he doesn't press on with a sudden flurry of questions like he wants to on autopilot. "Perhaps in a few days we might have a more focused sort of meeting," he suggests, stepping into her room and placing files, and briefcase down, and finally shrugging out of his coat. Beneath it his clothes are wrinkled and travel-worn, the Spyglass looking more wiry and exhausted for losing its bulk.
"How are you finding Stormbreak so far?" he asks, this time to fill silence in the face of her hospitality. He fusses with the cuff of one of his sleeves, folding it to the forearm and repeating the process with the other side. Taking in the room and its impersonal nature, Finn seems to take in everything and nothing all at the same time. He doesn't even think to sit down anywhere.
"How are you finding Stormbreak so far?" he asks, this time to fill silence in the face of her hospitality. He fusses with the cuff of one of his sleeves, folding it to the forearm and repeating the process with the other side. Taking in the room and its impersonal nature, Finn seems to take in everything and nothing all at the same time. He doesn't even think to sit down anywhere.
FINN
