Right.

Finn swallowed, but followed directions. There'd been something intense, spontaneous about that night in the ruin. While he appreciates, in hindsight, being able to walk for the rest of that week, having so much time to think about it...

Well. Words were never his strong suit. Finn's hands traveled to the marks on Poe's neck and shoulder in return, squeezing the bruises to just this side of painful. Trying not to think.