Welcome to Gaia! ::

He had thought about changing that to "underwear" instead of "d**k" but then thought <******** it.



Because apparently Finn had become an adult with responsibilities and had opted to work his a** off to get through rough s**t instead of drink his a** off to flounder around just plain s**t faced.

The door was opened, and Finn was, perhaps quite thankfully, fully dressed and most definitely not rubbing his d**k all over anything in his room, least of all Jack's guitar, which was sitting alone in a corner, not a thing touching it, not a thing near it, appearing to be in absolute pristine condition, polished and clean.

Finn was one hundred percent sure that Jack would still sanitize the s**t out of it, and that made him immensely amused, which made the entire abduction of said guitar absolutely worth it.

"Calm your balls. She's fine. She's lovely. She's been fine tuned to perfection." Again, he would place bets on Jack re-tuning her, after the disinfecting.

"Drink?" He asked, gesturing back towards his dresser, where a bottle of whiskey, scotch, bourbon, and tequila sat, two tumblers, a bowl of ice, and several shot glasses.

Finn almost felt like he should leave his room and give Jack some alone time with his guitar. Instead, he just gave them their space, moving over to his dresser to open it up and fish out his pack of cigarettes, lighting one up while Barbarack had their moment.

Smoking also helped him to not gag or vomit. Was Jack going to start making out with that thing? Finn might actually have to leave if that were to be the case.

It seemed that the moment had concluded, however, and Jack was letting Finn pick the poison of the evening. Still standing by the dresser, he turned the tumblers over, clinked in some icecubes in each glass, and had a quick mental debate over which to open, rather thankful that tequila was not on the menu as it usually gave him the most wicked of hangovers, usually coupled with violent puking at some point in the night, or most of the next morning.

"Scotch it is." Because why not? He hadn't broken into the good stuff yet and celebrating Jack's return and reunion with his sweet stringed baby seemed like a good enough reason to crack it open. Twisting off the lid, he poured them each three fingers worth and turned to hand Jack his.

"Welcome back." It was belated, but what the ********, still valid, and Finn raised his glass in a toast before bringing it to his lips for a long sip.

Finn made a mental note to get more details on this bullshit mission that had lasted so long as it had. But Jack was already moving the conversation along, and after another drag off of his cigarette, Finn answered with a smirk.

"Yes, and yes, though probably not in the way you're referring." The smirk faded at this point, however.

"It itches." He admitted, "And it's kind of weird looking, to be honest. I'm uh....not feeling so great about it." His hand was suddenly clenching his glass fairly tightly.

He had basically already decided to give Jack a peek at it, and nodded, but was opting to finish his smoke first before he would proceed with the strip down. In the mean time, jabs at his relationship with Ripley seemed to be on the menu, and Finn shrugged his shoulders.

"He might have stopped by recently. I don't know what you're so scared of, though. We simply had a nice loonnnnng discussion. It was a good session.Really enlightening. Opened my eye to some new and interesting positions on the topic discussed. I felt so much better, afterwards, like a load had been lifted."

He took another swig of his drink. Nothing but class.

"Oh...probably shouldn't sit on the bed though. We actually had sex. There was very little talking involved, and I haven't cleaned up the bedding yet."

That was a lie. He'd washed them right away and if Jack knew him at all he would realize that.

Ripley would be right lipped about it. Finn probably should have been too but Jack had, and always would have, asked for it. It was too easy to use against him, like gun loaded with bullets marked "homo" which could have just as aptly been labeled "Jack's Bane". Still, the very thought of Ripley and Jack having any kind of conversation was almost unnerving.

"Aw ********, tell me you didn't try to pry on our arrangement? Jesus, Jack, I know you're curious but there are other ways." He let out a long, suffering sigh and finished off his cigarette, butting it out before setting down his glass on the dresser top.

It was time to get shirtless.

"I can't even tell anymore if you're being genuine or sarcastic." Finn muttered, unbuttoning his shirt before pulling it off, "But I can tell you I've had a lot worse." Like girls who god damn cried during. That was ******** towards the bed, he turned around, and pointed to the bite mark area.

"Tell me that doesn't look like a god damn butterfly."

"That b*****d was right. Your opinion on the matter is entirely unnecessary. But since you consistently choose to grace everybody with one anyways, how about I lay one on you as well?" He asked, while giving Jack an opportunity to examine just how oddly the bite wound appeared.

"But first, a question. What's this about a girlfriend I've been hearing about?" Because he wanted to hear it directly from Jack, and not just via some rumor passed along down the grapevine.

Taking Jack's diagnosis in stride, he rolled his shoulders and chuckled. "No ******** s**t. Actually, it has healed, according to Trynt. It's just still...red, and like I said, it ******** itches." Which was not reassuring in the least. It meant that whatever it was, was probably going to come back and bite him in the a** sometime. Just one of many things that were continuously on his mind lately.

He scoffed at Jack's final remark, and began to slip his shirt on once more. "No ******** need to worry there, than, unless Ripley decides to spread the disease. I haven't exactly been living up to my usual promiscuity lately."