Finley Yarrow

"Took you long enough." He countered back, grabbing the guy and pulling him fully onto the ship from the edge of the plank before moving to shove the large piece of wood off and down to the port help that was waiting to assist with them setting sail. Disconnecting any chance the other had of changing their mind.

Turning he pointed towards the entrance to bellow deck. "Go find a hammock and then head back up here. We'll handle take setting sail." Then he turned, following a hollered direction from Nami and scaling the rigging to let down the main sail.

That was it. It was done. He'd left, left home, his family's light house sat darkened on the cove.

He shook his head at the attempt at a joke, knowing full well that there was more truth to Finley's words than there should be. The locals probably would say the lighthouse was cursed once he was gone.

"Luffy knows." Pushing off the rail he crossed his arms, brow arching down at the other as he added. "You coming aboard or what?" Nami was already shouting off instructions for setting sail and he'd need to disconnect the port's ramp from the ship in a few moments. "It's now or never Finley."

make light. he first registers it as just magic. and he's not sure how to feel about that. male channelers were - well, destined to go mad, weren't they? and sitting here with him. but he doesn't call himself a channeler, he doesn't call it the power. the unfamiliarity is something that makes him feel a little uncertain.

Finley nodded. It had been a while since someone had asked. He never left the town, neither his father or grandfather or great-grandfather before him. People just knew, and the little ones who came up to him, before they realized why everyone else in town hated him, so innocently thought that's just what a lighthouse keeper was, people who made light.

So he raised his hand from where it had been resting on the table, putting it on his lap. Left behind was a small handprint, glowing. He exhaled, and light particles past his lips.

@lightnessmade liked for a starter!

"So you actually decided to come." He mused, forearms braced against the rail of the Going Merry as he looked down to the dock below and the dark-haired male upon the worn planks. In truth, he'd not expected Finley to actually come. The other had seemed deeply routed to his home, even with the isolation forced upon him by the villagers. Yet he'd still offered, knowing that if he hadn't Luffy would have. If anything, their captain would want Finley aboard so that he could catch more fish for them, the ever-hungry idiot that he was.

"I think, most likely, no one is going to steal my house." Finley offered. He playfully wagged his eyebrows. "They probably think it's cursed."

"Not really, just make whatever you feel like." While he enjoyed certain foods, at the end of the day, food was food. A means to fuel his body and so while he'd decided on the main dish, he'd prefer Finley made something from that option that he'd like as well.

Nodding at the thanks he returned to the table. Lounging back in the wooden chair and crossing his ankles as he sipped at his own glass. Gaze drifting to the small window and the sea storm raging outside, darkening the world so that it felt as though this lighthouse was the only thing for miles and miles. The beam of flickering light passing through like a wavering beacon unwilling to give into the darkness. .

He carefully plated out Zoro's portion and then his own. Each hand occupied, he padded his way towards the living area and reached out one of them to the swordsman.

it takes him a beat but then he lets out a small laugh. well, he hoped he was messing around. it came out like a joke. but suddenly he's feeling a chill down his back. people with any number of --- talents always seemed to creep up on him, as if they were trying to get their hooks in him. he had come here for a place to sleep. but that didn't mean - he wants to shake the thought and the feeling. so he laughs, because it could be funny enough if he wanted it to be.

"As am I," Finley grinned. It could be a two-way street, after all - there was nothing to say this guy wasn't trying to get into his house to try and sacrifice Finley, after all.

Watching the other breath literally light into the lamp to light it he remained silent for a long moment. In their travels, they'd met a lot of devil fruit users, but Finley's was probably the most beautiful of the powers he'd seen. Even Ace's fire couldn't compare to the almost ethereal glow produced by the other male.

Attention shifting towards the cabinet that Finley had indicated he rose once more. Pulling out a bottle and two glasses he poured out equal measures of the alcohol. Placing one glass next to the stove for the other before settling back into his chair to wait out the storm.

"Oh... yeah that makes more sense than me thinking you bought it cause I asked for it..." he trailed off a blush creeping up his cheeks from his own stupidity. Isaac scratched the back of his neck with an impish smile tugging at the corner of his lips before he grabbed the jar of pickles.

"Mine," Finley said simply. It took him a moment, a slow blink, before some things sort of clicked into place. There were other places he could have put Isaac. His grandfather's bedroom, his father's with the ensuite. The old office upstairs had once been a guest bedroom, but with no one ever visiting, they had taken apart the murphy bed and repurposed it long ago. "Sorry. I guess, I still have a mental block about putting you in my granddad's or dad's room... just feels a bit rude."

He tilted his head once, watching as Isaac seemed to think. He shook his head and turned to go back into the kitchen, pulling on the old, 40s fridge and grabbing some eggs.

"I'll take your word for it. I just never found couches to be too comfortable to sleep on," he murmured as he watched Finley move into the kitchen. "I-... you actually have a jar of pickles. Why do you have a jar of pickles?" Isaac asked curiously as he looked at the jar. He did love pickles, especially on a sandwich with turkey.

"... because I also like pickles?" Finley was confused. Should he not have a jar of pickles? It seemed like a decent staple food, good for a snack, hard to go bad.

Finley tucked his slippers back on and stood up, his pajamas mostly still neat enough from the night. "Just because it's old doesn't mean its lumpy. We Yarrows take care of our antiques!"

He grinned and made his way to the kitchen. Without another word, he returned with a pickle jar. "I promised you that you'd have plenty of pickles come morning."

"Huh?" Isaac was utterly confused when Finley just uttered the word pickles as a question. It did jog something in his mind. "Did I ask for pickles?" He asked as he went over to the other side of the couch and sat down by Finley's feet.