All Grown Up

Who: Lenore and Finn
Where: The Nighthawk
When: Late Afternoon/Early Evening

It had only been a little while since Lily had left Finn's apartment, and Finn was still feeling a little overwhelmed by their conversation. This made him feel very hungry. He kicked around his kitchen, trying to find something reasonable to eat, but the cheese he had leftover was stale, as was the bread, and the one sorry apple left in his larder looked like it had worms.

So, he was off to the Nighthawk. Finn locked his apartment door, a fistful of cash in hand, and strode down the street. The wind surprised him, and seemed to dig through his coat. He broke into a sprint, knowing that the diner wasn't far, and not wanting to be in the cold longer than he had to. He burst through the door loudly, not realizing how much momentum he'd built up, and stumbled halfway across the room before stopping.

Lenore had come to Nighthawkes as an attempt to recapture some of the calm she'd felt with Angelo the other night. She almost regretted not giving him more solid contact details - almost. It was a time of turmoil and she would have liked a warm, familiar body to curl up with. He'd been special. But there was no point on dwelling on troubles. She was dwelliing on mysteries instead - such as who had killed Moira O'Malley? It hadn't been her that was for sure, and she was curious about it.

The pondering did not last long, however, as the gust of cold wind swirled through the Diner and caught the unprotected back of Lenore's neck. She looked up from her plate of spaghetti with a start as the door banged, and then rolled her eyes as she recognised the figure. Finn. She hadn't seen him for quite some time, but they'd known each other fairly well back in the old days. Back when she still wore lipstick. And yes, she'd recognise the way he held himself very easily. "Clumsy idiot," she said, not unkindly, as he stumbled directly past her booth "I've told you once if I've told you a million times not to charge around like a headless chicken. Sit down," she gave a quick, tight lipped grin and folded her hands under her chin, marvelling slightly at the reappearance of an old friend. She didn't believe in coincidence, after all.

Finn's eyes lit up when he saw Lenore and he plopped down next to her. "Ah, but dear Lenore, you and I both know that my charms lie in my ability to imitate poultry." Then, as Finn was want to do at times, he crowed. He'd never been known for his good table manners, or for being inconspicuous. He gave her a wide grin, before spotting her dish of spaghetti. "That looks good."

Lenore gave him an amused, if not slightly disapproving look, managing to look down her nose even though he was far taller than her. "It's very good, have some," she said pushing a fork his way, "You don't eat properly by the look of you. Where are you living?" she sniffed, glad to see him when she wanted his company, but still rather bemused. She remembered him from the Cherry Parlour. He'd always been skittering around the back rooms looking for somewhere to sleep, and he'd been good company, but she'd felt a little bit like she'd grown out of him. She admired his liveliness, though. Maybe that was she was meant to be being reminded of. First the girl Laura, now Finn. Forget the problems and intricacies of the family and live a little.

He grabbed the fork happily, and started shoving pasta in his mouth. " 'bove the Apollo," he said, after swallowing most of what was in his mouth. "I write and play music more now." He winked. "I'm moving up in the world. Got a job at the Drake." He was ravenously hungry, and as not to eat all of Lenore's food, he waved the waitress over, making an intricate hand gesture that suggested he'd have the same thing Lenore was having. He turned back to look at her. "How about you? Where are you living?"

Lenore waved a hand at the window in a non-descript fashion, "Out. Docklandish. Suits me, out that way, very quiet," she paused slightly and twisted a strand of hair through her fingers in contemplation. Maybe the quiet was the problem, she hadn't been quiet when they'd been friends. It felt like a previous life, though. Perhaps it was, she was... something else now. She was above it, she had her calling, "It's good you're doing something more than pestering working girls at least. Although I bet you still pester, you wretch," she said in mock-annoyance, snatching her fork back from him with a playful swipe.

"I still work at the Kitten, if thats what you mean." He laughed. "I just happen to be broadening my horizons, finding new venues. You know I'm going to be the next big thing." He winked. He'd been saying this about both of them since they first knew each other. She seemed a little bit different now, though he couldn't put his finger on how. "I don't know how you can stand all that quiet, honestly. I think silence can be so much louder than a cacophony of noise. It's distracting, and keeps me up when I'm trying to sleep."

"That's because you have a head full of confusion and you need something to drown it out," she said rapping her knuckles gently against his forehead, "You haven't changed a bit. Better job, nicer clothes, still the same bright young soul though, aren't you?" she said in a very fond fashion, because they'd been close and she was comfortable with him as if he were her own brother - not that Lenore knew how it felt to have a brother, but she imagined it was something like this, "That's admirable, Finn. Don't let your spark snuff out before it has to, hmm?"

"I am twenty two and proud of it." Finn liked to remind people of this when they mentioned his youth. He realized, to an extent, that a lot of people still looked at him like a kid, and it didn't often bother him. But sometimes he couldn't help telling people his real age, in case they'd forgotten. The waitress came over with the spaghetti, and plopped it in front of Finn, who eyed it hungrily. "And my spark will never snuff." He truly felt this way.

"I know you're 22, idiot, we're the same age, and I don't see why you're proud of a biological certainty. But alright," she said, clearly mocking him, "I'll have to start referring to you as 'sir' I suppose?" she snorted, as if she was unable to imagine anything more ridiculous. "Do you miss me?" she said suddenly, changing track. She tended not to think about the way things had been - she was keen on evolving forwards - but there seemed to be signs coming from everywhere that she ought to be reclaiming a little bit of that wild streak. Lenore wondered if she missed herself, with the long tangle of hair and the smeared lipstick and the unbearable arrogance (although the arrogance had really stayed, it was just veiled a lot thicker these days) but she wasn't sure. Calm was good, serenity was good. It often seemed that perhaps life was for other people - she was just there to take it.

"Of course I miss you!" Finn said, skewering a meatball on his plate. He popped the whole thing in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. He didn't think about the people he missed very often. It was always terribly dangerous. It hurt too much to think of people like Jamie and Eris, he knew that much. But, after pondering on it, he knew he had missed Lenore. She had been one of the few people who was able to keep up with him, and, on occasion, speed past him like a bolt of lightening. "I miss our adventures."

Lenore smiled wryly at that. Adventures. She had always admired his fearlessness. You needed that, if you went leaping across rooftops for entertainment. She didn't do that any more, did she? Not for a long time. She had honed herself. "Do you still live like that?" she asked, in a fairly nonchalant fashion, "Do you still find beauty in strange places, and feel like you can fly? Because I do. I just don't think I act on it quite so much any more."

"I can fly." Finn winked, bringing up an old joke. Finn used to swear that he could really fly, with the right wind conditions, and a running leap. He really wished it were true, he always had. He wanted to throw himself off of a building, and just catch himself before he hit the ground. "I just go where it feels right. If I'm hungry, I find food. If I want to fly, I fly. If I want an adventure.... I find an adventure." He ate another huge meatball, very quickly.

He would fly before he hit the ground, thought Lenore to herself, but not vocalising the thought. If he wanted to fly, let him fly - if it resulted in him dying at the end, then so be it. It was the right way for Finn to go. Instead, she simply cocked an eyebrow and swatted the back of his hand, "Eat properly, chew your food, don't inhale it, I shan't perform Heimlich on you," she wouldn't, either, "And where do you so conveniently pluck your adventures from, hmm? Thin air? Or a new breed of tree I've yet to be witness to?"

"Oh, you know, they just find me." This was not exactly true. In fact, Finn usually found these adventure on his own. One night, he would just decide that exploring the old bank would be a good idea, and the next day he'd swear he saw not one, but three ghosts. He was currently trying to find a way into the Apollo through his apartment. He'd found one passageway through a little door that had been held closed by a rusty lock, and had attempted to squeeze her way into it. He barely fit, but he still had more tests to make. He needed a partner. "What about you? Do you still adventure, or did you go and grow up on me?"

"It depends on your definition, dear," she said, with no obvious emotion, "Some things never change, some things always have to," and that would have to be the straightest answer he would receive for that question, because sure, Lenore had what you might class as adventures. She slit throats. She met artists. She held the hands of the dying. To him, she was probably just a stripper gone straight and narrow and therefore boring. Probably. She smiled and ran the back of her hand down his cheek in a gesture of genuine affection. "Things seem to find me too, though. You're not the only one."

"You have grown up, haven't you." It wasn't a question. He smiled, though he seemed a little bit sad. Their times together, for the most part, had been the best of times for Finn. It seemed to him that everyone was growing up these days, all around him. Finn didn't question if he should be growing up more. He was incredibly happy as he was, but everyone he knew gained a whole new set of rules as they grew older, that seemed to complicate more and more throughout time. He ate his pasta quietly for a moment.

Lenore didn't know about growing up. She knew about changing. The old lifestyle had died with her first kill, with the death of The Cherry, with all kinds of things. That was how it was supposed to be. Things changed. But she didn't like to see anyone upset, and the expression on Finn's face was unmistakable. She grinned and poked him hard in the ribs, "Cheer up, chicken boy, what do you want to do tonight?"

"I want to do something interesting... I have to work." Said Finn with a sigh. That was one thing about his current life that didn't thrill him. Work. He worked far more than he cared to. But, his apartment was wonderful, and he needed somewhere to keep his piano. He started munching on his pasta again. "It's a shame really... I would skip out, but... it is The Drake."

"The Drake. Hmm," said Lenore, wriggling back in her seat and eyeing him with a slight twinkle, "Very respectable. DiGiovanni's run that place, you know. I've only been a couple of times," and only ever in the capacity of having work to do - she'd left a body in bedroom once, and after that had avoided the place. She wouldn't be able to go there anyway, considering where her loyalties lay. Eugene wouldn't be happy if she was spotted flitting around with the Italians, "Well, we know where to find each other leastways - if you're ever bored. I'm still at the hospital."

"I'm not working tomorrow." He said thoughtfully. He missed hanging out with Lenore. They'd had a lot of adventures, and since they moved apart there hadn't been anyone who fit with him quite as well. Maddy was near the top of that list, but even she became skeptical of some of his antics. "Lets do something together... like old times."

Lenore laughed brightly, "Well, alright. We'll think of something. We'll go flying, hmm? Although you know, roosters don't fly Finn, darling," she ruffled his hair and planted a rough, friendly kiss on the top of his head, "You idiot. I'm going to leave you to your pasta," she slipped a couple bills underneath the china of her plate and made to squeeze past him, "But if you have to work and I have to work, let's call it a night for now, hmm?"

"Sounds good." Finn replied, with an impish grin, "I will think of something... exciting for us to do tomorrow." He wasn't sure what he wanted to do yet, but he definitely had some ideas. The tunnels sprang to mind, as did the old bank. He wanted to do something that reflected how excited he was to see her again.

He watched her leave as he finished up his pasta. He was on a schedule tonight, not something that he normally enjoyed. He very much wished for something to throw a wrench in his schedule. Finn was very much looking forward to the next day.