when you are not fed love on a silver spoon, you learn to lick it off knives
Phoebe speaks and Finn does his best to think about calming breezes and boring, grey skies - anything to rid himself of the arousal that Phoebe has managed to bring to life with a mere touch of her fingertips. And he's just about got himself under control when she drops demigod into it. The man he's masquerading as manages a blank expression tinged with shock and awe, which is a good thing, because it's what Finn is feeling as well. A Frey demigoddess - considerably rare things, from his experience in the Order.
"I see," he says eventually, clearing his throat and managing a gentle smile up at her. "I mean, I - yes. Yes, I feel much better, thank you. I will be sure to leave an offering to Frey when I next find the chance." And he means that truthfully, despite all else he's experiencing thus far. "Is there anything I can do to repay you?" Brothel, duh.
"I see," he says eventually, clearing his throat and managing a gentle smile up at her. "I mean, I - yes. Yes, I feel much better, thank you. I will be sure to leave an offering to Frey when I next find the chance." And he means that truthfully, despite all else he's experiencing thus far. "Is there anything I can do to repay you?" Brothel, duh.
Finn?
