#scler

Trying to be good is a lot more taxing than Finn thought it would be. Not the act of being good, in and of itself, no, but the act of trying to get his emotions to go along with his head. Finn wants nothing more than to be good. He wants to change. But his emotions say otherwise, screaming and banging pots and pans in the back of his head until he’s about ready to scream. It’s a good thing he doesn’t have any cocaine right now, but that won’t stop Finn when he decides he wants to forget about his shitty issues. That’s why he finds himself finishing off a bottle of straight tequila several nights after his apology to Ted and to SC. He’s completely wasted, and as such, Finn is kind of...off his rocker. That’s why he doesn’t think twice about getting in his car and attempting to drive to his dealer’s place, impulse telling him that even if he has to sit on his doorstep for another week of his dealer’s vacay. Finn didn’t really think about what he’s doing until he sees the red and blue lights behind his weaving and slowly-moving Corvette. And that’s how, on a Sunday night, Finn finds himself sobering up behind a set of jail bars at the South Stitch County Jail, his shirt covered in what appears to be dried vomit, and eyes dry and bloodshot as he stares vacantly at the wall. He needs to make a phone call. He really does. But he has no idea how to go about asking SC to bail him out of jail. Christ, what a mess. He sullenly asks the guard for his phone call, and then hesitantly punches in a number he has the guard read off to him from his phone. Putting the receiver to his ear, Finn shudders out a breathy sigh, not looking forward to SC’s reaction.