finn
it always feels more quiet in the dark
"I..." Finn frowns, puzzled, and touches a hand to his cheek again as if trying to remember. "You know, I don't really recall. I was doing surveillance work this morning." Perhaps he'd hurt himself tailing his mark? Every time he tries to remember, it all goes fuzzy. And when he consults his notepad about it, a couple of pages in it all just turns to deep scribbles with his pencil, before picking up again like nothing had happened.
"The Iris Agency, huh? I wonder how they got hold of my details..." Wonder how they knew I needed a secretary, which I don't. Regardless, Finn accepts the Miller file, flicking through it so he can examine his notes from the last attempt at surveillance. There's a lot of scribbles there, too. Curious.
"No, miss. There's no lady waiting at home for me. It's just me and the job." Chewing the inside of his cheek, his gaze flicks back up at her suddenly. "Is my 3 o'clock free?" he asks.
"The Iris Agency, huh? I wonder how they got hold of my details..." Wonder how they knew I needed a secretary, which I don't. Regardless, Finn accepts the Miller file, flicking through it so he can examine his notes from the last attempt at surveillance. There's a lot of scribbles there, too. Curious.
"No, miss. There's no lady waiting at home for me. It's just me and the job." Chewing the inside of his cheek, his gaze flicks back up at her suddenly. "Is my 3 o'clock free?" he asks.
it always feels so stark
