when you are not fed love on a silver spoon, you learn to lick it off knives
"Oh - thank you." Finn snags the towel handed to him, carefully drying himself off (not how he usually acts in this situation, but his senses are somewhat dulled, so sue him) and pulling his clothes back on until he's pretty much ready to go, having shrugged his bag over his shoulder too. "It really sounds as though the two of you have been put on the opposite fighting lines for all of this," he says softly. "Aren't you worried? About what the Voice might do to you through him?"
He's about to leave when Sunjata remarks that he might as well stay, and Finn tries and fails to find the words to politely decline - both drugs and duty see to that. "Sure," he says instead. "Why not the... bed...?" Having followed Jata into the bedroom, Finn is glancing between the bed and the floor and slowly raising his eyebrows, waiting for the other man to finish whatever it is he's doing.
He's about to leave when Sunjata remarks that he might as well stay, and Finn tries and fails to find the words to politely decline - both drugs and duty see to that. "Sure," he says instead. "Why not the... bed...?" Having followed Jata into the bedroom, Finn is glancing between the bed and the floor and slowly raising his eyebrows, waiting for the other man to finish whatever it is he's doing.
Finn?
