"Why don't you?" He asked him. It was a strange question. But Finn had been there for two years, and he knew that leaving meant getting out safely. Getting out alive, in one piece.
He looked out at the flowers, thumbing over the pulse fluttering at his wrist, beneath tattoos and scars from an old, old past. "I could leave," he responded, "You're right. But there are things that are stopping me." He paused, looked at Finn, and laughed. Helpless. "I guess, it's better to say that they aren't stopping me. But I'd rather stay if they're here than walk away from it all not knowing that they're going to be alright."
His eyes flicked to Finn, veiled and sharp and curious all at once.
And dropped, just like that.
Silverah
