the spyglass
I used to think that I was bold, I used to think love would be fun
"Mm," Finn says around another sip of whiskey, smiling to the other man and lowering his glass. His curiosity is like permission, and Finn seizes on it. "Since Cian is gone and there is no Eye in Stormbreak, most of my work has fallen down, I think. I have been looking into crimes in the city, unsolved cases, that sort of thing. It is a lot of reading." And he sounds thoroughly pleased about it.
Sighing and nodding sadly, able to understand the alchemist's predicament even if he has never stood in his shoes directly, Finn taps at his glass. "That sounds so, so difficult," he murmurs. "I hope that you can find some peace for yourself soon, if nothing else." Peace is almost as rare a commodity as time, Finn finds.
"I suppose I am older than you are," Finn agrees of the boys, following Remi's glance to the trees and the several pairs of sea glass green. "By all means," he says, gesturing for the table. "Pull up a chair."
Sighing and nodding sadly, able to understand the alchemist's predicament even if he has never stood in his shoes directly, Finn taps at his glass. "That sounds so, so difficult," he murmurs. "I hope that you can find some peace for yourself soon, if nothing else." Peace is almost as rare a commodity as time, Finn finds.
"I suppose I am older than you are," Finn agrees of the boys, following Remi's glance to the trees and the several pairs of sea glass green. "By all means," he says, gesturing for the table. "Pull up a chair."
now all my stories have been told; except for one
