the spyglass
I used to think that I was bold, I used to think love would be fun
Remi's mischief is contagious, Finn smiling crookedly into his glass before raising his gaze to Remi and raising his whiskey in a cheers. "If you had asked me even six months ago I'm not sure I'd have been able to answer you," he confesses. "Now, though? I think I'd quite like to be a detective." Someone who can help, who can give back, who can perhaps prevent a similar mistake from happening to another child. "How about you?"
Following the other man's glance down the table at Eight, who is still dismantling the hawk without eating any of it, Finn's smile fades somewhat. "I think he's learning to be," he says softly, pausing for a beat before he can't resist saying the obvious. "He and Twelve look like you, from our other dream. Don't you think?" The one with honey slathered bread, with the sound of Remi's father roaring down the brothel corridors.
Following the other man's glance down the table at Eight, who is still dismantling the hawk without eating any of it, Finn's smile fades somewhat. "I think he's learning to be," he says softly, pausing for a beat before he can't resist saying the obvious. "He and Twelve look like you, from our other dream. Don't you think?" The one with honey slathered bread, with the sound of Remi's father roaring down the brothel corridors.
now all my stories have been told; except for one
