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Well, that was rather disappointing. Finn read the description of this man named Leslie and immediately threw his name on the never in a million years list.

Sometimes it was just that easy to turn the moon intermediate off, as he saw no reason for Jack to lie to him about how the guy looked considering he would see him himself probably in the near future.

He really saw no reason to reply to that, considering giving no response was a pretty clear indicator that he'd now dismissed the idea entirely. Instead, he now actually found he'd much rather move on to the new game that was afoot between them.

Guess that ******** buddy....guy....person that he slept with more often than other people....friend...guy.

It was only shortly after he suggested it that Finn realized the error of his ways. Jack was a hermit. An anti-social d**k head that didn't bother or feel the need to bother getting to know anybody unless it was absolutely necessary, usually involved somehow in his occupation.

This game was likely going to be very short and sweet.

Oh well. He'd tried.



He was then forced to wait a bit longer, and after a moment of staring at a phone waiting for something new, he remembered the coffee he had brewed and stood up to pour himself a cup. Moments later he was seated again, this time taking a sip of a dark brew that tasted more horrible than he could have possibly imagined but that he was going to drink anyways.

Seriously missing the Tim Horton's over here.

The phone vibrated, and he almost didn't want to even bother looking at it.

But when he did he nearly choked on his coffee.

And bam. Just like that, Finn wanted boobs. Real ones. Right in front of him. Touchable, huggable, squeezable, a mouthful a handful a ******** face full god damn





He went back to the picture to look at it some more for a moment, admiring the handy photo work.

They were magnificent. How ******** dare he be in the presence of something that magnificent while Finn sat around choking down terrible coffee?

By the time Jack sent in his second guess, Finn was pretty much over it (the game). He felt appeased by the photo, which besides being glorious, was possible proof that the other man wasn't full of s**t.

He finally glanced at the recently received message and tapped in a reply.

Or several.











And was Finn feeling particularly smug over this conquest?

Yep.

Finn's moment of smugness lasted for about five seconds, and than he was completely over it.



And how had it happened? Even Finn wasn't sure how to answer that, not honestly at least. It had been such a combination of things, which had climaxed during a moment that had simply been a product of right place right time.



It was most definitely completely different than that.

There was a lot of what Jack said that was actually...very true. The "Big Ex" that had been the catalyst for a lot of his current relationship and the revelation of what might be a slight mental instability was quite pale haired as well...as were many of his past conquests. Apparently it was part of a particular taste of his, and not just in this universe.

Though, to be fair, Ripley's natural hair color was actually brown.







Much the same as ever, between the two of them. Though now if there had ever been any doubt in Jack's mind that Finn actually did like men as well as women, he would hope that doubt had been dispelled. This was, however, the first time in memory Finn could recall ever telling Jack that he was actually in a sexual relationship with another man.

He idly wondered if it would change anything between them. If Jack's oh so obvious homophobia would now drive a wedge between them.

Finn also couldn't find a reason to really care if it did. They'd had a good run as friends, as far as these things went. Besides, Jack might not even make it back from his mission alive. Probably wouldn't, considering where he was.

And yet something about that thought didn't sit well with him. Huh. Maybe he did care after all?



Mr. Popular Finn's a**.

Haha. Lucky. Like that guy at New Years that had been hanging off of Jack.

Which reminded Finn of one of the reasons he and Ripley had ended up...whatever they were now.

Actually, with a rack like that, he wouldn't have cared it if had been thirds of fourths really.....



Because he had absolutely no evidence or even a theory to back that sentence up, he moved on.



He doubted Jack would do much with it. What was he going to do? Mass text the island? When he knew it wouldn't phase Finn at all, it seemed unlikely.

There were sounds of quiet footsteps in the hallway behind him and Finn took a moment to glance over his shoulder at the two intermediate hunters he did not recognize, one being helped along by another as if he were either too drunk or too injured to manage on his own.

Sadly, in this place, either option was equally as likely. As he had no idea who they were, however, he didn't call out to them to find out, instead turning his attention back to the foul brew that somehow thought that it deserved the title of coffee in one hand, and the phone that he held in the other, the latter of which giving off a buzz as it vibrated in his hand, indicating that Jackie Boy had sent him another text.

He smirked at his phone for the first two replies, thumb hovering over the letter keys as he thought through some witty replies that he could send.

He must have been tired, however, the coffee not doing enough to wake up his sluggish brain quite yet, as a third message belatedly buzzed it's way into existence on his screen, and Finn had to stare at it for a moment, frowning as he wondered to himself how in the hell that question had ended up coming to him from Jack of all people.

Sure they used to talk, a lot more than they did now, before they ended up on this island. They talked almost every day, on skype, text, or instant messenger. They shot the s**t, chatted idly about their daily lives, discussed sightings of the 'shadows' that haunted them. But now a days things were different, and a question like this seemed almost out of place among the dickish banter that they generally spewed.

But it was a question that, despite not being able to discern tone over nothing more than typed out letters sent to each other electronically, seemed to be honest and curious, and serious.

So perhaps it deserved as much in return.



It was all he could think about, for a while. What terrible things he could do to hurt her. It was better now, with distance between them, without feeling like she owned him in some way.



It sounded good on paper. Hell, it sounded good out loud too. But Finn wasn't going to sit their and say that it was definitely one hundred percent better.



It could only stay serious for so long.