honestly, finn would be fired on the spot if his boss had caught him, but he needed at least one smoke before returning back to the “glamorous” party. the second that his tray of champagne glasses was clear, he disappeared into the kitchen, asked his co-worker to cover for him (he’d be back in a second), before finding the door that led to an outside patio, giving finn the fresh air that he deserved.
brooklyn boys very rarely got to see the inside of a manhattan apartment (not unless they were ransacking it, of course), but pure luck landed finn with a catering job, where for four or so hours he had to keep his mouth shut and keep people’s hands full. it was easy money, but finn, personally, liked to people-watch to make the time go by; make up wild stories in his head as to what person a and person b were arguing about – probably about not having enough ferrari’s in the garage, or the latest divorce scandal. it was definitely a job that finn preferred to do not-sober; if only to make it that much more fun.
so, he blazed - pulling a zippo lighter from the pants of his uniform, boosting himself on top of the ledge and taking one of the biggest drags of his life. just a few more parties, finn reminded himself as he coughed into the inside of his elbow, before he could quit and mooch off the money he made. he would mooch off it until it was all gone, and it would kick-start the cycle of him finding a new job once more.
when he saw a shadow coming from the door, finn quickly ducked his head, hiding reddening eyes, as he moved the hand that hid the blunt behind his back. ❛ i’m just having a smoke, ❜ finn called out, assuming it was his boss, ❛ i’ll be back out in a minute. ❜