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The text had come in while Finn had been busy with something (or possibly, someone), and so, it was no less than 45 minutes before a response was sent back, though he had to wonder if the message would even go through at that point.



A moment passed, and it seemed like the message had been sent with little issue, so he tapped out another.

It was easy to joke about, considering Finn's long term stance regarding Jack's anti-social behavior, but he knew the truth, that Jack did somehow have friends that for some ******** up reason cared about him, and that his return would likely make several people quite happy, even if they sucked at showing it.

It was likely that the same could be said for Finn, and for some reason the thought nauseated him. What the ******** was wrong with people on this island?

Still, as loathe as he was to admit it, he was at least somewhat glad to hear that Jack was still alive, and in a capacity well enough to be sending out texts to those back on the island.



He highly doubted that Jack would be thankful at all, though his reaction was less spectacular than he had hoped.

Sigh, oh well.

A minute or two later, Jack would receive a photo of the guitar, propped up against the wall in Finn's room, polished and in pristine condition. The area around it seemed clean enough...though there was what appeared to be part of a pair of men's underwear cut off right at the corner of the image.

It'd been a long time since they'd sat down and had a few drinks together, after all, and this was excuse enough as any to do so (not that he really needed any excuse to have drinks with Jack). When had been the last time? Before they had stumbled upon Nevada and Chel during a heated discussion in the Life labs? Actually, now Finn wasn't even sure they'd been drinking that night either.



Because Chel would have definitely said something, he was sure.



In which case, he would probably need to take Jack with him to make sure he bought something good and not some piece of crap because he didn't quite know the difference when it came to guitars.



So he hadn't had a chance to clean up the clothes that had been strewn around his room yet. Sue him Jack. Sue him.



Smirking, because this was a hell of a time to change the subject.

Finn cringed a little, his lip pulling back in a sneer that nobody would see because he was speaking to his "friend" through texts, and the only other person that might have been able to witness it was passed out in a tangle of sheets on Finn's bed, snoring quietly.







Maybe he had gone a little bit on the offensive. Maybe he was more bothered by Jack's terminology than he would like to admit.

He stared at the phone for a bit longer, reading the newest messages. Stormy was there? That was rough, but Finn knew his idiot "friend" could handle it.

Finn was ready to put his sex life and sex life choices aside for the remainder of this conversation, already regretting that he hadn't been more careful in the photo that he had taken and in his decision to tell Jack that the boxers weren't his. What had he really expected the reaction to be? He closed his eye and shook his head, standing up to get himself a smoke from off of his nightstand, moving over to the window, prying it open before lighting up.



He was taking long drags of his cigarette now, nicotine calming what little of his nerves were frazzled at the moment. He glanced back towards the bed, towards the sleeping figure. He was tired himself, probably would have joined him, but.....

The reality was, he was actually enjoying his conversation with Jack more than he would ever have let on. It was nice, in a way, reminiscent of their instant messenger chats from days long past. Days when things were.....more normal. Never actually completely normal just...more normal than now.







Especially if you kill somebody, given that Finn dreamed about it often enough.

Back to his sex life, accidentally, as he regretted his barely thought out text the moment it was sent. He had now basically either just confessed to only getting homo action lately. Which could also be construed as him getting it often.

......And he was, but Jack didn't need to know that. Still, he could try to make a joke out of it.



When backed into a corner, more gay jokes necessary.

Quote:

Text to Jackie: I am getting all responsible aren't I?

Finn had set his phone down after that, finishing off his cigarette and lighting another. He hadn't really thought about his position on Deus very much before now, having only recently accepted the fact that he needed to do something......

He picked up his phone again.

Quote:

Text to Jackie: Guess we'll get to work together in the infirmary when you get back. Lifers don't really like me being there but they can suck on my c**k.

Quote:

Text to Jackie: That means you can suck on it too, by the way.

Quote:

Text to Jackie: Anytime you want.

The conversation seemed to have steered away from where Finn had feared for a moment it might head again. It was better to talk about work right now, anyways. And while, if asked, Finn would likely not give two shits about telling who he was currently sleeping with, it was simply not something he'd had to do yet.

And it was...kind of nice, not having everyone and their god damn mother know. Different, exciting, and possibly even added a bit of mysteriousness to Finn's long list of incredibly sexy qualities. Yes. He liked the idea of that quite a lot.





He scoffed a laugh, finishing off his second cigarette and butting it out as well. Another glance towards the bed, an unreadable expression on his face as the final text from Jack came through, and he was walking across the room, scooping up a tshirt and setting down his phone as he quickly got dressed, grabbing his jacket and phone, before leaving the room.





And because he had a sinking suspicion that Jack was beginning to wonder about him (they knew each other too well at times it seemed).

Finn had made his way to the dorms lounge, where for some reason, at that moment, he felt more comfortable than in his room. He put on the coffee pot, despite not being a big coffee drinker but feeling a craving for it right at that moment, and sat down on the edge of the couch while he waited for it to brew. He had read the first couple of texts sent back from Jack, but had yet to respond. The first was amusing, the second, not so much.

He was just about to reply to both when a third came through. He stared that that one for a long moment, letting out a sigh through his nose. What to do. What to say? The agreement was that if nobody asked, than Finn didn't have to tell. But Finn always told Jack. He had already told Fini. Why was he hiding it?

He didn't really care if the whole island knew. But it was something that niggled at the back of his brain. Something that Ripley had said to him that, for some reason, made him take pause. <********.



Like he expected Jack to answer that with any amount of thought or seriousness.



All of his past relationships were clear indications of this.

But an agreement still meant possession, of a sort. Even though he knew he couldn't commit himself 100%, there was still that need to own somebody, to make it seem like they were his.

It wasn't something he felt he could really explain properly. He wasn't sure anybody else would really get it, or see it the same way he did, if he tried.

He thought of several ways of replying, but they all seemed far too defensive. He had nothing to be ashamed of, here.



He might as well try to get something worthwhile out of this situation.