It was such a stark contrast to the way the last time ended that Finn almost wanted to ask about it. While he can pinpoint the moment it went wrong, for the life of him he can't figure out why one little show of uncertainty had made it all spiral out of control. He manages not to. For now. But the question stays lodged in his throat, ready to make a daring escape.

Better to take a nice long drink to try and shove it down. It also gave him a good excuse to close his eyes while Poe got the pants on. He was not going to watch every inch of skin vanish, no matter how tempting. He had a good memory. He'd manage.

"Finally made it to evening drinks."

It wasn't quite the question and it was said with a smile after Poe was half-dressed again, but it alluded to that night. So much for winning that war.