"Poe Dameron," Hux's voice says.

Poe curses inaudibly and spins around on his barstool.

Hux is a lanky, red-headed man with a sour-looking face and pale eyes. Poe has had the misfortune of knowing Hux (along with Ben Solo) since high school, and he's never seen him in anything besides black clothing. Maybe very, very dark grey. Maybe.

Basically, he's a skinny asshole white boy with a pretentious taste in clothes and an accent that should belong to a cosmopolitan supervillain in an action movie. Poe hates him.

"Armitage," Poe says, crossing his arms. He knows for a fact that Hux hates being called by his first name.

Hux frowns, which is the default position of his face. "I must commend you for your bravery. I would resign from public life after that humiliating interview."

Eighty-percent of the people Poe has come into contact with has mentioned that damn interview.

"I think the guy deserved it." Beebee turns and rests her arms on the back of her barstool.

"Of course you did." Hux smiles patronizingly. "Resistants are self-righteous people."

Poe furrows his brow. "Did you just come over here to insult us, or…?"

"No. I came to get a drink."

"What do you want?"

"I think I can order my own - "

He looks over his shoulder. "Maz?"

She looks up from cleaning a glass. "Yes, dear?"

"Redhead needs a drink."

She pushes up her glasses and squints at Hux. "Vodka martini."

"Precisely."

"And the young Solo looks like he's in a mood that calls for cheap beer."

Poe peers over at Ben, who's sitting at a table in the corner and looking out the grimy window. He either looks bored or anxious - Poe can't tell.

"Considering I'm paying, the cheapest beer you have."

"Aw, your play producer gig not paying well?" Poe says.

His eye twitches indignantly. "It pays quite well, actually."

"Then why are you hanging around in the Kuat District?"

"I don't think you're one to talk," Hux says. "You live in the Kuat District."

"I like to live in the community that I work for. It's this thing called integrity. I know you Imperials have trouble wrapping their head around that concept."

"At least our party wins. Have you seen the latest poll? Palpatine has an eight percent lead over Organa."

"That's from the Imperial Tribune, asshole. Look at any - "

"Are you capable of being civil in any argument?" Hux interrupts.

"Not when I've had alcohol. Look at any nonpartisan news source, and Organa has a two-percent lead over Palpatine."

"Not exactly a landslide for Miss Organa."

Poe spreads his hands. "Not exactly a landslide for your guy, either."

"Admitting you're on a losing team takes a certain humility that I'm afraid you don't possess."

He laughs bitterly. "I've never lost an election - and I don't intend on losing this one."

Hux raises his eyebrows. "Neither does Palpatine."

"Bootlicker," Beebee spats - her only contribution to the argument.

"Order up," Maz calls, setting his drinks on the counter.

Poe leans to the side, giving room for Hux to approach the counter. He glances over his shoulder and sees that Hux has thrown a fifty dollar bill onto the counter. Poe's jab at how much money he makes must've made him feel some type of way.

"Keep the change," Hux says, sliding his wallet back into his pocket and grabbing the drinks.

"I hate your politics," Maz, who must've been eavesdropping, replies, "but I love your wallet."

Hux walks away from the counter, and Poe's only a little tempted to knock over his drink and spill it all over his clothes.

He turns again to face Poe. "Now that I think about it, the Kuat District suits you. It's subpar, underdeveloped, small - quite like the campaign you're running."

"I used to talk to your ex-girlfriends in high school," Poe says. "That's not the only thing that's subpar, underdeveloped, and small."

Rey snorts, back still turned. She has kept quiet this whole conversation, hunched up with her head low, as if retreating into a shell.

Hux's frown deepens. "You have an obscene mind."

"Can you get outta here and let us enjoy our evening?" Beebee says, going full New York.

"Gladly." He gives a small bow. "And Rey…"

She looks over her shoulder.

"Ben says hi."

Rey glares at Hux like she's about to murder him, restrains herself, then turns back to look down at the counter. Clearly Poe's missing the significance of that statement.

Looking satisfied, Hux turns on his heel and walks back to his table.

"Petty son of a bitch," Rey mumbles.

"Me or him?"

"Him. And you."

Poe nods in reason. "I'll drink to that."

She scans the empty counter. "But we've got nothing to drink."

He's developed a headache right above his brow. "Hey, Maz?"

"What now?"

"Can I get a shot of...something?"

"Tequila?"

"Yeah. Sure. But instead of a shot, can I sub that for the whole bottle?"

"I'd rather not be responsible for your hospitalization, child. How about two shots?"

"That works."

Maz searches the stacks of bottles with her fingers outstretched.

"I'll have what he's having," Rey pipes up.

"You know," Maz says, "alcohol is never the answer."

"Maybe not," Poe shrugs, "but it's a temporary solution."

"I think I'm starting to remember you more," Finn says.

They're dancing to Jannah's song, feet slowly and rhythmically stepping on and off the sticky floor. Finn's right hand rests gently on the arch of her back, the other clasped in her right hand. Jannah's other hand pushes against the back of Finn's shoulder.

Finn's not a good dancer, but he's not not a good dancer. He can handle this simple slow dance without much trouble.

Jannah seems like she's moving in one, fluid motion, long yellow skirt grazing against the floor.

"You are?" She raises her eyebrows.

"Yeah. I remember - you were honest."

She looks at him like this is an odd statement. He's beginning to think that it was. "I was honest," she repeats.

He continues on, feeling a little self-conscious. "I mean, you didn't take bullshit. You didn't people-please, either. If something needed to be said, you said it."

"Everyone should be like that."

"Everyone should be," hey says, smiling wryly. "That doesn't mean they are. But you were honest. And you asked a lot of questions."

"I still do." She tilts her head at him. "What have you been doing since you graduated, anyway?"

He shrugs. "I took the first job I could get, hated it, got fired. Now I'm here. You?"

"I'm in my second year of law school." Jannah squares her shoulders proudly.

"So you wanna get paid to ask a lot of questions."

"Essentially."

"Well - that's way more impressive than my thing."

She frowns. "Yeah, not everyone's so impressed."

"What d'you mean?"

"My father." She thinks for a moment, lips pressed together. "He worked hard with the intention of making sure that I would have the easiest life possible. But I'd like to contribute to the world in some way. Not as some socialite or philanthropist, either. I want to work in the world, not just throw money at it."

Finn can't really fathom this. He can't really empathize with this, either, although he tries to. He's never had the luxury of working-by-choice. If he didn't work, he would be living out of a cardboard box. The only reason he's not right now is because he's pulling out of a savings account that he forced himself not to touch when he was eating Ramen and vending machine chips everyday in college.

"My father's Lando Calrissian," she says, as an explanation. She must've read the visible confusion on his face.

He pulls back a little in surprise. "You're…? The Lando Calrissian?"

"Is there anyone else with that name?"

Lando Calrissian is a multimillionaire. A chain of bougie hotels aptly named The Calrissian, a bit of luck in the gambling world, and ownership of a good chunk of Coruscant City are responsible for his obnoxious amounts of wealth. He's also had a dating life that has been famously documented in the gossip column of the First Order Journal. Has Finn mentioned that he's not proud of his former workplace?

"So you're an heiress. That works at a bookstore. And lives in the Kuat District."

"I'm one of those insufferable rich people that wants to be one with the people."

"So this is a whole princess and the stable boy situation, then."

Jannah rolls her eyes. "I actually have a stable boy, so…"

"I can't tell if you're joking."

"I'm not," she says. "His name is Erik."

Finn blinks. "Is he cute?"

"Why? Do you want his number?"

"I'd rather have yours. But I'll settle for Erik, I guess."

"You know, I like watching your attempts at being smooth." She grins.

"You do?"

"Uh huh. You're failing miserably, but it's adorable."

"I only heard the part where you called me adorable."
"Not as adorable as Erik, though."

He looks up as if to curse the heavens. "Dammit."

They drift out of conversation and back into the music. The music has swelled from a singular voice into what sounds like an echoey quartet. The song is cheesy, as promised, but that doesn't mean it's not sincere.

Once they get room on the dance floor, Finn spins her out, her skirt swaying, then begins to pull her back in. She seems to keep control, until her foot slips on a bottle cap and she stumbles forward. She catches herself by putting a hand on his chest, which causes him to stumble back.

He grasps her wrist, and they finally reach an equilibrium.

They're significantly closer than they were before. Her hand's still on his chest. They laugh a little awkwardly.

"That turned out better in my head," he says.

Her laughter settles into a small smile. Her eyes flicker back and forth, studying his face. "I think it turned out alright."

It feels like he's cheating on Rose, although he's not. He's not obliged to devotion, but that feeling of devotion is still lingering.

The song ends.

Jannah pushes back gently.

His hand slips from her wrist.

Finn walks up to the jukebox, where Beebee has her legs crossed on the floor as she looks through the song catalogue.

"Their Billy Joel collection is blasphemous," she says, face illuminated by orange and purple neon. "'Pressure' but no 'Piano Man'? What's up with that?"

"We've got a situation," Finn says shortly.

She stands up and turns around, looking concerned.

"Your brother and my roommate are wasted," he says, peering over at the two of them. They look like if a couple of those floppy car dealership things were forced to sit at a bar.

"Already?"

"Already. They smell very, very strongly of tequila."

"Oh no. Tequila Poe requires supervision."

Jannah walks toward Finn and Beebee, rubs her forehead in distress. "I'm gonna take Rey home. She's…" She gestures, letting them fill in the blank.

"Do you need me to - ?"

Jannah shakes her head. "No. You should enjoy your night."

He can tell that she didn't say this to invoke pity, but Finn feels pity anyways.

"Finn!"

He startles and looks over at the bar again.

Rey has her hands cupped around her mouth. "Finn!"

"Don't go over there," Jannah says gravely, eyes full of warning.

"Finn!" Poe joins in.

"Finn!" Rey repeats.

"I don't think they're gonna stop," Beebee says.

Finn begins to walk toward the bar, but Jannah stops him, putting a hand on the crook of his arm.

"Just know," Jannah says. "Tequila Rey sucks you into her mad, drunken rabbit hole, and there's no getting out of it."

"Finn!" Her voice is getting more high-pitched.

People are staring.

Finn rushes over, feeling firsthand and secondhand embarrassment at the same time.

Rey's eyes are red and watery. She gestures flimsily as she says, "Roomieeee!"

He puts a finger to his lips. "Why don't we use our inside voices, huh?"

"Don't patronusss me." She clearly means patronize, but it's best not to correct drunk people. "If you're gonna patronus me, then you can't be my roommate anymore. Kicked out. Bye bye, Finneas." Rey jabs her finger below his ribs.

"Ow," Finn (whose name is not short for anything) says, rubbing his solar plexus. "Why are you so freakishly strong?"

"I wanna dance…" She clasps her hands together and throws her head back. "Let's dance."

"Or we could drink some water. That sounds just as fun."

"Booooring," she hollers, putting a hand on top of his head and running it down his face. "You're so boring. With your schewpid reading glasses and your...and your books and your ooooooh I can quote more Shakespeare than you ooooooh…"

"You're being mean, Rey," Poe slurs. Finn notices that he has a New York accent that he didn't have before. "Look at me, Finn. Look at me."

Finn reluctantly shifts himself toward Poe.

Poe's face is pink, the vein in the middle of his forehead popped out. His glasses have slid to the tip of his nose, and his eyes are squinted to slits as a result. "You're a beautiful man, Finn. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise ever. You have the eyes of a...of a baby deer. You're like a perfect lil' Bambi man."

"How many shots have you two had?"

"Numbers aren't real," Poe says.

Rey lunges forward and squeezes Finn's face between both of her hands, forcing him to turn toward her. She squishes his cheeks together. "What are you hiding, Bambi man?" she whispers. Her breath smells like wine, tequila, and falafels. Not a good combo.

Luckily, Jannah comes to his rescue, placing a hand on Rey's shoulder.

Rey looks at her affectionately and leans heavily on Jannah's hand. "I love you so much."

Finn peels Rey's hands off of his face.

Jannah pats her head. "Why don't we get going?"

"Jannah," Poe says. "I admire how tall you are."

Rey squints at him, head still rested on her friend's shoulder. "She's not that tall."

"Yeah, but she like, acts tall."

"Why don't you handle him," Jannah points to Poe, "and I'll handle Rey?"

"What happened to Beebee?" Finn asks.

She gently pushes Rey off of her, but Rey firmly plants her head on her shoulder again. Jannah sighs. "Yeah, we're on our own. Apparently she works here part-time, and Maz needed backup."

He scans the bar and sees Beebee behind it at the far end, a towel thrown over her shoulder as she chats up a customer.

"I think she was just trying to get out of it," Jannah remarks.

"Was she behind the counter the whole time?" Poe gestures to his sister.

"Yes, you idiot," Rey says, screwing up her face.

"You're an idiot."

"You're an idiot."

Jannah scoffs. "You both are idiots."

"And you both are leaving," Finn says.

Poe nods lazily. His glasses fall off of his face, clattering onto the ground. "Does anyone else feel like doing something irrational?"

Finn swoops down, picks up the glasses, and puts them in the inside pocket of his jacket. "We're leaving," he repeats.

"Okay, mom," Poe mutters. He stands up, putting his hands in front of him for balance.

Looking done, Jannah pushes Rey's head off of her shoulder and yanks her off of the barstool by her arm.

"Owwwww." Rey pouts.

Jannah sighs. "You're fine." She lets go of Rey's arm, rummages through her purse, pulls out her wallet.

"I can pay," Finn says, reaching for his wallet.

Jannah's face falls flat. "I'm not going to make the unemployed person pay for these two buffoons' drinking spree."

Finn sighs, surrendering. "Thanks."

Jannah pays Maz, leaving a generous tip. They begin to leave, dragging Poe and Rey along with them. It's like herding cattle, if the cattle was absolutely shitfaced.

They're almost to the door when Rey stops in her tracks. Finn follows her eyeline, and realizes that she's staring at a tall, dark-haired man at a corner table, who's next to a thin, red-headed man.

"C'mon," Jannah says shortly, gesturing toward the door.

Rey gives a small shake of her head. Before anyone

can stop her, she rushes toward the table, her steps wild and uneven.

The man makes eye contact with her, brows furrowed in confusion. "Rey - ?" Finn hears him say over the loud ambience of the bar.

She reaches the table, grabs a beer bottle off of it, and throws its contents onto his face. "Screw you," she says, her voice suddenly sharp and clear. It's not necessarily a yell, but the words still project throughout the bar.

The man stands frozen, eyes closed, his face soaked with brown beer. His red-headed friend is motionless too, with his mouth agape.

Poe lets out a wheezy laugh.

People are staring, like the whole thing is a piece of shitty theatre.

Jannah's eyes have widened in terror. "Oh, God."

After what seems like four hours, they reach the second floor of their Yavin Street apartment building.

Rey seems to have quieted down a little, possibly thinking over what she just did at the bar. Poe's still keeping up the same (draining) energy.

"Apartment Eleven-C," Poe says, sounding very sure.

"It's Two-A," Jannah says, pointing to the one on the left side of the hall. Rey is firmly planted by her side.

Finn starts to guide Poe toward the apartment.

"You got him?" Jannah asks.

"Yeah, yeah."

"Just know," she says, "when you moved into this building, you also moved into this exhausting friend group."

He sighs. "I'm beginning to realize that."

Jannah starts walking up the stairs, guiding Rey to their apartment.

Finn reaches for the doorknob and turns it, opening the door without having to use a key.

"I forgot to lock it again," Poe says, his shoulders slumped.

Finn's starting to think that Poe's not as put-together as he thought he was.

Poe stumbles into his apartment, groping for his light switch and turning it on.

His apartment is a little bigger than Rey's but not by much. It looks like it belongs to a grungy college student rather than a Congressional campaign manager. There's a worn leather couch in the living room, and an arched entrance that leads to a small, checker-floored kitchen. Old albums are displayed on the walls (AC/DC, Elton John, The Scorpions, Joan Jett, Jimi Hendrix), as well as old political posters (All Power To The People; Bail Organa's presidential campaign poster lined up alongside Leia Organa's Congressional campaign poster; a yellowed protest sign that reads The Revolution Will Not Be Televised). Leaned up against the TV stand is an acoustic guitar.

Poe squeezes Finn's shoulder, throws his keys onto a dining table covered in papers, and slumps onto the couch a little pathetically.

"I'm gonna get you some water," Finn says, "and something to vomit in."

"But I don't have to vomit."

"Maybe not right now." Finn walks into Poe's kitchen and turns on the light.

"Hey," Poe calls.

"What?" Finn finds a glass and fills it with water.

"You're…" His voice drifts off.

Finn starts to think that he passed out. "Poe?"

"Mm?"

"What were you going to say?" He walks into the living room and holds the water in front of Poe.
"I forgot." Poe takes the water from him, brings the glass to his lips and takes a miniscule sip. He squints at him. "Is Finn short for anything?"

"No."

"Phineas? Finley? Finnegan? Finn...ish?"

"Nope. Just Finn."

He sets the water on the coffee table, lies down flat on the couch and puts his forearm over his eyes. "Poe's not short for anything, either. Parents just liked Allen Edgar Poe."

"You mean Edgar Allen Poe?"

He chuckles, eyes still covered. "Yeah, yeah. I'm very drunk."

"Haven't noticed," Finn says drily.

Poe uncovers his eyes, turning his head to look at Finn. "I almost got you a present."

Finn raises his eyebrows at him, a little confused. "You almost got me a present?"

"Mm hm." He covers his eyes again. "You dropped your book in the puddle. It was a nice book too, leather binding and those little gold letters...Collected Poems of Langston Hughes."

"Oh." Finn had had to throw that book away - it reeked and the pages had been ruined.

"Couldn't find it, though. I asked Rey if she had it, looked online, went to a shop in the Alderaan District, asked a friend who has a cousin who's a book collector...no, wait. I asked a cousin who has a friend who's a book collector. Turns out the friend had a copy, but he died of a heart attack and gave all his books to some damn university. Anyway, dead end. Ha. No pun intended."

"It's alright," Finn says. "It's just a book."

"I don't know why I did it," he says bluntly. "I don't even know you. It sounds kind of creepy, now that I say it out loud."

"Just a little bit," Finn teases, "but a thoughtful kind of creepy."

He uncovers his eyes again and stares lazily at his unmoving ceiling fan. "You can go now. I've been drunk by myself before." He turns his head toward Finn, furrows his brow. "Not...a lot. I don't have a problem or anything. But I can handle it."

Finn pulls Poe's glasses out of his pocket and sets them on the coffee table,

He feels Poe watching him.

"You're good at taking care of people," he says. "That's what I forgot to say, I think. Probably not. But something to that effect. And you look like you could crush a walnut with your bicep."

His face flushes a little. "You give a lot of weird compliments when you're drunk, man."

Poe rubs his face with his hands. "I'm gonna regret everything in the morning."

Finn grabs a waste bin from the corner of the room and sets it by the couch. "Get some sleep."

He lazily points to Finn's Casablanca t-shirt, quotes, "Finn, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friend...ship…" He passes out, melting into the couch cushions.

Finn turns the lights off and leaves Poe's apartment, closing the door softly. He finds a key set on top of the doorframe, locks the door, and sets it back where it was.

He hears footsteps and turns around.

It's the guy from the bar - the one Rey splashed beer all over.

Seemingly occupied with searching his pockets for his keys, he doesn't even notice that Finn is there. The hairline of his shoulder-length black hair is soaked in beer, as well as the neckline of his gray shirt.

Finn didn't know that he lived in this building. "Sorry about the whole...you know," he fumbles.

The guy startles, looks over at Finn. "Oh." He exhales. "Don't worry about it. Wasn't your fault." He pulls out his keys and sticks one of them into the doorknob. "Did she get home safe?"

"Yeah."

He yanks his keys out of the door knob and they stumble out of his hand. "Shit," he says in an I'm-done-with-the-world type of way, then swoops down to pick them up.

Finn pats his sides awkwardly. "I'm Finn, by the way. Her new roommate."

He gives him a sideways glance that seems judgemental. "I heard."

Before Finn can get another word in, Mr. Beer-Soaked Tall Guy enters his apartment and closes the door with a thud.

"Nice to meet you too," Finn mutters to himself.

He heads up the stairs, realizing just how tired he is. Bed sounds nice. Maybe a big-ass plate of nachos, too.

He reaches his floor and sees Jannah softly closing Rey's apartment door.

She turns and spots him, giving him a small, tired smile. "Good luck with her in the morning. If you think drunk Rey is bad, wait until you see hungover Rey."

"How long have you two known each other?" he asks, walking closer to where she's standing.

"Since she moved to New York. So...four years, give or take." Jannah glances back at the apartment door. "Still hasn't learned how to handle her alcohol. Bloody lightweight."

"Well - thanks for not getting plastered."

"Oh, my pleasure." Her eyes lower to his hand. "Let me see your hand, for a second."

"What?"

She reaches for it and yanks it toward her, turning his palm up.

He shuffles forward a little with the motion. "What are you doing?"

Jannah studies his palm and smiles to herself. "See that line right there?" She runs her finger along a crease in the middle of his palm.

"Yeah?"

"That means you're controlled by fate. Or, as you like to call it, 'people knowing people.'" She pulls out a pen from her purse and writes three numbers beside his thumb - 376 - and lets go.

He looks at the numbers. "'This another one of your hippie things?"

"No. It's the first three digits of my phone number."

He frowns at the writing on his hand. "Pretty sure I need the other six for it to work."

She smirks. "You'll have to be patient."

"Oh, c'mon." He throws his head back. "This is just the area code. My number starts with three-seven-six."

"What did I just say about patience?"

Finn looks back down at her. "You know, there's this thing called phonebooks - "

"No one under the age of thirty-five owns a phonebook."

"I..I'll just have to go out and find one."

"You're gonna go out and buy a phone book, just so you can get my number…"

"Or," Finn holds up his palm, "you could save me some time and money and just write the rest of the numbers."

She lifts her chin at him. "You know what? I'm going to make it difficult."

He sighs dramatically. "Of course you are. Actually, I don't even know where they sell - "

She kisses him. It's abrupt but soft.

Caught off guard, he tenses up.

Jannah pulls away quickly.

" - phonebooks," he finishes, a little stunned.

For the first time since he's known her, she looks embarrassed. "I'm sorry. That was odd of me. I normally don't…"

He lifts up her chin gently and kisses her back.

It starts off just as soft as the first one, then becomes deeper as they relax into each other. Jannah rests a cool hand on the back of his neck, Finn cups the side of her face with the palm that she had written the three numbers on.

Finn doesn't have the brain capacity to think of what the kiss means or if it's wrong or if it's too soon. It's like the gears in his brain have finally stopped moving for a moment.

Jannah pulls away, lingers for a moment, barely an inch of warm air between both of their lips. She gives him one last, small kiss.

They let go of each other slowly and reluctantly, sliding their hands away.

Jannah smiles without looking at him. It's cute when she's shy. "Goodnight, Finn."

He smiles back, hoping it looks charming instead of dopey. "Goodnight."

Finn watches her go up the stairs until she disappears, feeling like he's going to melt into a pile of goo on the floor. Maybe the night's ending wasn't so bad after all.

"I hate myself," Rey says, head still hovering over the toilet bowl.

"You don't hate your - "

"Nooooo I hate myself." She takes a shaky breath and sits upright, scooting against the wall and hugging her legs. Quiet tears are streaming down her face. "And you hate me too."

He rubs his eyes. "Rey, if I hated you, I wouldn't be holding you hair while you hurled your guts out into a toilet." Finn is sitting across from her, cross-legged on the white tile floor with his back propped up against the bathtub.

He looks up at the clock hung up on one of the ugly salmon-pink walls. 1:03 AM. He's trying very hard to keep his eyes open.

"Well, you must hate me a little bit." She dabs her forehead with a washcloth.

"Why do you say that?"

Rey looks up at the ceiling. "Because you lied to me."

Finn's stomach drops a little. He knows what this is about.

"I looked up Tewone Real Estate Law. Turns out that not a lot of people have the last name Tewone, by the way."

"It's French - I think."

She flicks her wrist lazily at him, as if to say I don't care. "I found one result. Tewone and...another name. The Tewone guy was blond with blue eyes."

He squirms a little. "I'm...adopted?"

Rey narrows her eyes at him.

"Okay, I lied."

"I would've been fine if you said you didn't want to tell me...I don't mind secrets - I have secrets of my own, you know - but I don't like lies, and I don't like liars." She squeezes the washcloth in her hands, water dripping onto her pant legs.

"I'm not normally a liar. I just…" He sighs in surrender. "I never really met my parents. And I'm not a huge fan of talking about how I never really met my parents."

She sniffs. "Oh."

There's a beat of awkward silence.

Rey breaks into a drunken sob.

Finn's eyes widen. "No, I - please don't…"

"I'm such a…" She heaves. "I'm really such a nosy bitch, aren't I?"

"You're not a nosy...bitch," he says awkwardly.

She wipes her snotty nose with her sleeve. "Your life is so sad."

"Well, I'm not in the foster system anymore, so not really - "

"Did you get adopted?"

He fiddles with his thumbs. "Uh - no. I aged out of the system."

She starts sobbing harder.

He knows it's entirely inappropriate, but exhaustion and the ridiculousness of this whole situation makes him start laughing - it's the kind of uncontrollable laugh that starts in your stomach.

Rey looks at him quizzically, mid-sob, then begins to laugh too, tears still streaming down her face. "And now…now you've got a batshit roommate - !" She wheezes.

Finn lowers his face into his hands, laughing into them.

There's a sudden thud thud thud from the floor above.

Rey suppresses a giggle, puts a finger to her lips. "Shh. That must be the landlord."

He quiets down, covering his mouth with his hand as he lets out spurts of excess laughter.

"Can you do me a favor?" she whispers.

"Depends," he whispers back.

"Repeat all of your childhood trauma in the morning? I'm not going to remember any of it."

He slumps his shoulders. "I'll leave you a note, or something."

Rey stretches her legs out onto the tile. "Thank you." She stares at him, seemingly deep in thought.

"What?"

She wheezes again. "I have a secret, too."

"You do?"

Rey nods her head eagerly. "Ope." She presses her lips together, looking like she's about to get sick again.

"Are you going to…?"

She swallows. "No. No. It passed. Anyway, I have a secret."

"I don't wanna know it."

"Why not?" Rey pouts.

"Because you're drunk," he says, "and you probably wouldn't say it if you were sober."

"Are you sure? It's a really good one…"

Finn crosses his arms. "Nope."

She groans. "Fiiiiine. You have too much integrity. Are you a Gryffindor?"

"Hufflepuff."

"Mm." She leans her head against the wall and closes her eyes. "I'm going to sleep now."

"Why don't you sleep somewhere that's not the bathroom floor?"

"No. I still hate myself. I deserve to sleep on the floor, with the plunger and the trash can and the cockroaches."

He pulls himself to his feet, holds out his hand. "C'mon."

She opens one eye. "What's on your hand?"

"Huh?" He looks at his palm, thinks about lying again, but decides to be vague instead. "It's...numbers."

She opens the other eye, looks at him skeptically.

He extends his arm out again. "You're gonna get off the floor, brush your teeth, and go to bed. Do you think you can do that?"

Rey looks unsure for a second, but then nods. She grasps his hand and clambers to her feet. Once she's up, she kicks off her shoes. "Next Eighty-Three and Under Night, you'll get wasted and I'll hold your hair."

He picks up her shoes. "Sounds like a plan."