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Finn desperately needed to find a better hiding place then in his room. Everyone seemed to find him here, and in the middle of the day when he was actually thinking for once about maybe getting a little bit of sleep after several days of fitful restlessness, the last thing he wanted was an interruption of any kind.

But alas, the pink haired menace had struck. He'd recognize that pitiful whine anywhere, and while he was more then a little tempted to ignore her completely, she did manage to pique his interest with the free food comment.

Rolling out of bed to land on the floor with bare feet, he grabbed for his eye patch off of the dresser and made his way to the door while slipping it on, before throwing it wide open, revealing one slightly disheveled man in a pair of grey sweatpants and nothing else.

"The way to a mans heart is actually through his d**k, but I guess I'll accept stomach as a mediocre replacement this time, Jumpsuit. So, what can I do for you?" He asked, in as pleasant of a tone as he could manage while staring at her with a narrowed, cold stare.

No vacancy? Wherever had she gotten that particular idea? Still, Finn only shrugged his shoulders, not feeling a desperate need to correct her on his current romantic situation, nipping at her fingers with his teeth when she brought them up to pat his cheek, before releasing the door knob and standing up straighter so that he could stretch his arms above his head, arching and cracking his back, rocking on his heels with a tired sigh before he relaxed again, raking fingers through his hair as if in attempt to resurrect it into some form of not completely terrible looking.

At her next words his face deadpanned and an eyebrow arched. Laugh? "I highly doubt that's going to happen, sweetheart." Because Finn's sense of humor was a fairly twisted thing, and when he did laugh, it was usually as a cover to hide what he really thought.

Gesturing at her to continue, he listened to her explanation with growing disdain. She wanted to hang out with Jack, of all the assholes on Deus, and that apparently made Finn a prime candidate to choose in helping said hanging out become a reality.

"Assuming that you're a good cook, as women should be if they did their womanly duties correctly, then you wouldn't need me as a guinea pig, which implies that your cooking ******** sucks. What else you got for me? Come on sugar, sweeten the deal a bit."

Finn remained unconvinced, his own arms crossing over a bare chest as he considered her with the absolute flattest expression ever, and that was saying something considering his expression was almost always flat. "And what, might I ask, makes you think that I want to be stuck with not bad, especially considering the intention is to give Jack, of all people, the very best you can possibly create." He took a step back, one arm unfolding and reaching for the door as if he were ready to slam it in her face. His tone wasn't angry, more along the lines of bored, in fact, with only slight emphasis on parts of his sentence that he used more to drive his point home then anything else.

Women. He ******** hated them and their retarded logic.

It was at this precise moment that she seemed to almost sense what he was about to do just a bare instant before he could follow through. Arms had found their way around his neck and he paused, eye flicking towards the door and his outstretched hand and then back towards the face that was now inches in front of his own.

Only slightly interested in where this might be headed, he let his hand drop slowly, resting it on her hip even as the other moved from between them to do the same on the opposite sides, as if that were the most natural place in the world for them. Her words struck an amused chord within him, and he smirked at her, a knowing look, his eye narrowing.

He was not expecting her to lean in and kiss him, albeit on the nose, but did not pull away either, the surprise simply not registering in his eyes as it did in his head. The laugh made him want to roll his eye and push her away, but he refrained, his hands tightening on her instead, pulling her in just a little closer with a rough jerk. "Miss Fini no longer gets a say, darling." He had leaned his face in closer to hers, head cocking just slightly as he considered her offer. A dog pound? She must have been hazarding a guess about what he might want to do, based on the information that he had a dog back home, one that he sorely missed. Was she mocking him based on that? He couldn't tell.

He leaned his face in just a bit closer, lips just barely not touching hers, as long as she didn't pull away, before taking in a quick breath of air as if to speak.

Abruptly, he pushed her away. "I'll think about it, sweetheart." He turned away to go back into his room, though he left the door wide open, an invitation for her to come in if she wanted, as he headed towards his dresser to find some clothes. "I assume you meant right now?" He called over his shoulder, while bending down to retrieve a pair of jeans, socks, and a shirt.

Finn ignored her at first, wasting no time in dropping his sweatpants (he was at least wearing underwear underneath, though if he hadn't been that wouldn't have stopped him from changing with the door wide open), and pulling on a pair of jeans. Turning around as he buttoned and zipped them up, he reached behind him for the belt laying curled up on the dresser top, before beginning to slide it through the loops on his jeans.

"Did I really look like I was ready to go out training or something?" He asked, sounding only slightly amused as he smirked at her, buckling his belt into place before sliding a long sleeved, dark grey shirt over his head, shrugging his shoulders while pulling it down over his scarred ribs and stomach.

Apparently she wasn't going to relent with the questions about Fini, and he fought the urge to roll his eye at her.

"Not that it's any of your ******** business, but I broke it off with her. Didn't really feel like we had the same ideas of where our relationship was headed." He gathered up his socks and sat down on the edge of his bed to pull them on, giving his head a small shake.

He didn't bother to mention the part where Fini had basically agreed it was for the best, and that they were still friends and that she still slept over pretty much whenever the hell she wanted.

"So I'm terribly sorry, darling, but our plans for a threesome will just have to be cancelled."

Finn was just pulling on his second sock when Chel made the comparison to Nevada, and paused in his movements, just briefly. He hadn't really thought about the woman much since the text he'd received from Stormy that indicated the mist hunter had died, and he preferred to keep it that way. They hadn't gotten along, she had held a gun to his head on their first meeting after all, but it still bothered him on some level that she had died in the way that she did.

Shoving it from his mind, he stood up, and turned to grab a black jacket out of his closet, slipping his arms in and shrugging it on while listening to Chel continue.

"Well, if you can manage to convince him that your nether regions aren't harboring a ferocious set of shark teeth then by all means, invite him along, Pinky." Insinuating that Jack was indeed a giant f** was no skin off of Finn's nose, and he didn't care enough about the comment to argue about the "lovers" part of it either.

"Ready, sweetheart." Ready for my death sentence by food poisoning. He thought, but didn't say out loud, as he made his way out the door and to wherever Chel led him.

Finn was fairly certain Chel couldn't have found a further kitchen to walk to unless there was one hidden out in the jungle somewhere. He found it a bit odd, to say the least, that she was going to such lengths to provide them with some privacy over a little bit of cooking, odd enough that a guy might get the wrong idea entirely on what they were there for.

In which case he couldn't fathom why he had bothered getting dressed and they and why they had left his room to begin with...which meant that they were really just here for cooking.

Disappointing.

Still, that didn't mean he couldn't have a bit of fun. Taking the phone away from her with another mental eye roll, he began scrolling through her list. "Jesus. You got it bad for him don't you, jumpsuit?" He muttered, while reading through the selections. It was half tempting to just tell her to make things that Finn knew Jack didn't like, but that would mean that Finn would have to eat that s**t too.

"He likes spicy food." He admitted, which seemed like it was for the best considering the moon intermediate like spicy food as well. "Do a curry dish, or a spicy chicken stir fry." He handed the phone back to her, but not without a sneak butt pinch from his other hand and a wicked grin.

"Get to work, sweet cheeks."

Finn just smirked at her response, because yep, she had it bad for the green giant and nothing she said could convince him otherwise. "So why do you care so much if you get the boot, huh?" He asked, innocently enough as he looked for a place to sit down and await his dinner.

Wait a minute. "You aren't going to make the sauce from scratch?" He raised eyebrows at her. "But I thought you were a good cook."

Finding a chair to plop himself down into, his booted feet instantly going up in the air to rest on the table top, crossed at the angle as he leaned back in the chair, his smirk widened.

"That is exactly how I was taught to treat a lady."