who: @leather-and-leftovers where: bheagain beach when: the bonfire at the solstice jubilee, about 10pm
Attention wasn't a weak point most people expected in Finlay. He was awkward and standoffish, even mean at times; didn't like crowds or talking much; and so frequently operated in a way that nudged away people that tried too hard to get close.
I'll be on the south side of the beach.
It shouldn't matter to him. It should be a deterrent, actually. Bad enough for him to go by that diner more than once, he shouldn't be entertaining even the idea of spending time up close and personal with one of the hunters running the place. Hunter meant an automatic strike off the fuck-able list. If the end goal was off the table, the lead-up was pointless. He could be polite with them. He could be friendly, even, outwardly. It was usually in his best interest (not like he always followed that) to keep it cordial. But absolutely none of that meant he had to entertain flirtation, subtle or overt. Even less reason to respond in kind.
(But you're going to, anyway, because you're still pathetic enough to be chasing that feeling. Weren't you supposed to be better than this now?)
Still, his feet carried him south across the sand, treading closer to the music than he would normally bring himself. The cup in his hand was just soda water (what you're doing is bad enough without throwing alcohol into the mix), something to occupy his hands and occasionally sip at. Finlay caught a glimpse of familiar face and quietly sat down next to Lucas.
"Hey," he said, softly. "Fancy seeing you here."
(Like it's not obvious you were looking for him. Unbelievable.)
