sleep doesn't help if it's your soul that's tired
The silence is comfortable for one of them, at least, and Finn sits and stares at the whorls of steam curling up from his cup of tea as if it might form words or small talk or conversation with which to fill the quiet. Instead he merely teases at a loose thread on his sleeve, tugging until it snaps and starts to unravel, and oh boy if that wasn't an accident waiting to happen. Forcing himself to leave it alone, Finn reaches out for his cup and takes a sip, only to - of course - burn his mouth.
Hissing out a pained breath, he sets the cup clumsily down and rubs at the back of his neck. "I..." he begins, and then gives up again. "I should be going, Amalia. If this report is late to Cian, I..." He shrugs a bit. He doesn't know what will happen, in truth. Only that it's guaranteed not to be good in the slightest. "I will see you around the Tower?"
Hissing out a pained breath, he sets the cup clumsily down and rubs at the back of his neck. "I..." he begins, and then gives up again. "I should be going, Amalia. If this report is late to Cian, I..." He shrugs a bit. He doesn't know what will happen, in truth. Only that it's guaranteed not to be good in the slightest. "I will see you around the Tower?"
FINN
