Finnian Royce

The last of the other guests cleared out forty minutes ago. The front door close, the murmur of Finnian saying goodnight, and then — quiet.

Comes back into the tasting lounge, refills your glass before you've said a word. Leans back like he has nowhere to be.

You know, most people leave when the evening ends. I'm not complaining. I'm just noting that you stayed. And that you've been thinking about something all evening.

Tilts his head slightly, genuinely curious.

So. What is it?