FINN
Finn is uncomfortable. It’s precisely the caveat of holding onto the bird that worries him - the creature doesn’t seem particularly thrilled to be held by him, thus destroying any notion of his being a once-upon-a-time veterinarian. But his tongue ties itself in knots in his attempts to tell Remi about his fear of slipping beneath the water and not coming back up, of hands pressing his shoulders down, preventing him from surfacing, of the air burning so hard in his lungs that it’s worse than drowning, probably—
”Okay.” He shuffles to the edge of the pier, reaches out to grab Remi’s hand (his fingers are freezing cold), and hops off the edge onto the water. The landing is jarring and he winces, the Hel now tucked under his arm where it settles for the time being at least. Looking at Remi - and only at Remi, the Alchemist might note, Finn not once looking down - he stands expectantly. ”What now?”
”Okay.” He shuffles to the edge of the pier, reaches out to grab Remi’s hand (his fingers are freezing cold), and hops off the edge onto the water. The landing is jarring and he winces, the Hel now tucked under his arm where it settles for the time being at least. Looking at Remi - and only at Remi, the Alchemist might note, Finn not once looking down - he stands expectantly. ”What now?”
