"You can't-"

Even dressed (and Finn can't imagine that's comfortable) Poe was still a lovely wreck. The hair, the bruises, the mouth. But apparently that ranked far below the urgency of the call, because Poe was out the door before Finn could even figure out how he wanted to end that sentence. He understood, duty called above all else. But no sirens were sounding, no all call had gone out. He probably could have take twenty seconds to wet his hair back down, at least.

But gone he was. Finn stared at the door for a long moment before he let his arm go out from under him, flopping back down on the bed. A bed that still smelled very strongly of sex and Poe, which just made him roll onto his back with a groan.

"Hell."