#- thread

Finn scrambles out of the storage room where he was looking for back stock to put out on the shelves when he saw a spider bigger than any he's ever laid eyes on before. "There is an eight-legged satanic creature back there, and I need you to do something about it before I burn this entire building down. And I'm pretty sure if it comes out I'm guilty of arson, I can't get unemployment, and by association you're an accomplice, so if you want to avoid jail time then take care of it!"

The guest list for his birthday party may have had maybe ten names on it, but the party itself being open to anyone who caught wind apparently left the chance of strangers who Finn has never to find their way in. He doesn't mind, all of his favorites are there, and having other people appreciate and enjoy the ambience of a 'Chella themed party must make Madison feel happy. He makes his rounds to say 'hello' to as many as he can.

"Hi! Welcome to my girlfriend's not-so-humble abode," Finn greets this guy with an ear-to-ear grin and an arm extending out in a slow wave toward the general setting of Madison's house. It's a mansion compared to his shoe-box apartment, but it feels a lot less empty tonight. "I hope you are enjoying yourself. Feel free to add any songs to the queue. The phone is plugged in to the pretend D.J. stand."

"Here, I got you something."

Finn slaps a book down on the table between them, making sure the cover title 'The Art of Darkness: A Treasury of the Morbid, Melancholic and Macabre' is facing Teddy. "Second volume, an interesting read. You know I like history, so I skimmed through it. I couldn't help myself before giving it to you."

Art history hasn't been Finn's preferred subject on historical content, but he finds it interesting in it's own way. The dark and macabre are right up his alley, and sure, the book is more visual and light on the reading, but he thinks it's a decent enough read for Teddy.

"Oh this? It's pretty self-explanatory, isn't it?" Finn grabs the bottom of his shirt and pulls down, stretching the image flat so it can be see free of wrinkles. The shirt he pulled from the t-shirt grab bag for the night out celebrating his birthday. "It's Danny Dorito. Impeccable design, if I do say so myself."

It doesn't take all too long for Finn to find his Secret Santa giftee. The banquet has made it a more leisurely affair as the is no sense of urgency, but Finn seeks her out to place a decorative bag with colored tissue paper sticking out of it in front of her.

"Your Christmas elf is here!" Finn retrieves a mini confetti popper to set off with a flurry of red and green paper across the table. When it settles, he bends forward with his arms loosely looped behind his back into a mock bow. "Your elf's name is Finnley, and he is pleased to present your gift."

Finn pretends to take a drag from the end of the pen that's standing in as an imaginary cigarette when the speech nears its end, trying his best impression as a play's stage manager. He doesn't intend to criticize a thing, rather, he sits in wait to support Lucky as he works through the kinks and hits his stride.

"Bravo, Lucky!" he finally cheers when he ends that held breath, offering his friend a little golf clap. This type of event doesn't justify any whooping and hollering. "If you were my best man and this was the speech you gave to me, I would be weepy eyed and ugly sobbing beside my bride."

Partly an exaggeration, but Finn knows that any kind words Lucky can conjure up would tug at his heart strings. He has a way about it, being this concrete and steady support, and Will Meyers is one lucky man to be at the receiving end of something so thoughtful.

“Darcy!” 

Finn turns the doorknob to her apartment, welcoming himself in as he’d seen Blake leave — not in a weird, stalker way, just that he’d been outside retrieving the mail, said ‘hello’, and waved her off when she got in her car to head out — so, he’s not too self conscious about intruding.

“Darcy, darling! Your favorite person is here, demanding your attention. I have big news!” Finn halts once he enters and sees her cat perched on the counter, and he gives her a warning stare.

“To share elsewhere, before I get hives from this staring contest with Gucci Dior.”