#finchmarlow

[thecathoarder]

Okay just curious, but has anyone ever been interested in me? For example, as in I wanna be friends way or a crush way?

It’s weird to ask but I’m curious about it, and it won’t leave my head until I ask.

[thecathoarder]

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This looks like such a small meal but I personally like this. This is such a mood.

[thecathoarder]

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Being a nurse is very demanding. You’re always on your feet, so It feels weird sitting around with nothing to do.

[thecathoarder]

OPEN INTERACTION ||

(Disclaimer: This is my first time doing one of these so please bear with me, I always get nervous when roleplaying gulp and sometimes will reply late!

(also, if I have any grammar mistakes I apologize. English isn’t my first language, as much as I do speak it.)

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Finch was sitting in one of the lounge chairs in the staff break-room. He was silently reading over lab results for his latest patient, taking a drink of his coffee and placing it against its usual spot on the table.

The coffee sat in his mouth before he gulped it down begrudgingly, knowing that it will most likely not help his fatigue. Finch chucked the files against the desk, rubbing at his eyes from under his glasses as he let out a deep sigh of frustration.

He rested his hand against the left side of his face, staring at the exams that gave him no answers to his latest patients medical problem. Finch had been dealing with it for a day and a half—and while that may just be him overreacting, he couldn’t care less. He was worn out enough, especially with his seasonal mental struggles slowly starting to set in during the fall(slash winter).

But he kept working like it was nothing, because it really was nothing. No matter what he feels, or what he deals with, everyone moves on. Life moves on, there’s really not much time to care for himself, at-least to him anyway.

Finch stared into nothingness for the last few moments, until the click of the door spooked him back to reality. Trying to play off the startle it gave him, he lifted his head up to possibly take a quick glance of who entered the break-room.

[thecathoarder]

I made a batch of White macadamia cookies and.. I am.. 90% sure I burnt them.

[thecathoarder]

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To be honest I should’ve said this a day ago but ‘m hosting an early Christmas party tomorrow around 8:00 PM at the local hotel; I couldn’t host it at my house, since uh.. yeah.

Would anyone like to go? It’s open-invite.

[thecathoarder]

OPEN INTERACTION ||

He couldn’t tell if this was a good idea, or a horrible idea.

Drinking at a bar for Thanksgiving—alone, sounds more pathetic than anything. Most people are spending time with family, with their lovers. Having dinner together, eating turkey and stuffing their faces until they couldn’t anymore.

Finch always hated thanksgiving. But, now that he had no one to celebrate with—no family, no friends, no lover—he missed having that opportunity. I guess you could say the hatred came back to bite him in the ass.

He also wasn’t even meant to be drinking either. He told himself he’d stay far away from it as much as he could, but as much as he could didn’t mean at all costs.. right?

Finch watched the merlot swirl around in the glass, analyzing the drink and its scarlet blood color. He shifted uncomfortably in the bar stool before putting the glass up to his mouth, the drink burning his throat.

The bar was extremely crowded, families gathered around tables and making memories. Couples having their moments in the corner, Groups of friends having a group cheers.

He didn’t realize somebody was making their way over until they pulled out a stool and sat next to him, thinking it was just another stranger at first.

Looking over, however..

[thecathoarder]

Just had a patient’s mother scream in my face after giving her son the treatment that saved her son’s life just because she didn’t want any surgeries to “kill him”.

I genuinely can’t stand my job sometimes.