Finn Lynch lives a quiet, tranquil life in a rural village in the mountains. Her life may lack spontaneity and excitement, but at least it's peaceful. And if it's a little lonely too, then she can't complain too much - she's still happy, after all.
...
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"Oh, fuck." The stranger blurts, and suddenly the near blinding light coming from the wooden stick in his hand dims as it's dropped to his side. "Who the hell are you?"
"Me?" Finn practically shrieks, attempting to struggle out of the man's iron grasp. "Who the fuck are you!"
"Er-"
Reaching out blindly, Finn manages to click on the lamp on her bedside table. With the room illuminated in the soft warm glow of lamplight, she gets her first proper look at the intruder. He's not as wild-looking as she had first thought; his hair is untamed, certainly, but in the lamplight she can see it's arranged in frazzled curls. The hollows of his cheeks don't seem so pronounced in the golden light, and his eyes don't look nearly as crazed, but the dark tattoos creeping up his neck from beneath his very tight shirt are intimidating enough that Finn finds herself tensing so hard that her muscles nearly spasm.
He blinks at her, clearly startled by the sudden light.
"You're not-" He begins, before his gaze drops to her body. He flushes a little, just at the highpoint of his cheekbones, then quickly averts his eyes. "Oh. Shit. Sorry, I didn't realise you were- erm, not... decent."
"Not- not decent?" Finn repeats, disbelieving. She shoves at him once more, but this time he actually allows her to push him aside. She grabs at a dressing gown and clutches it against the front of her body in an attempt to cover her sheer, formfitting nightie. "You've broken into my house and attacked me in my bed, and you're worried about my decency? You creepy wee fucker, get out!"
"No, I didn't mean- fuck, wait, I'm so sorry!" He throws his hands up over his face and claps his fingers over his eyes in an over-dramatic show of looking away from her state of undress. "Shite. Okay, there's been a big misunderstanding. I- let's start again! Hello, I'm Sirius, and I was looking for someone, and I- I think I'm at the wrong house."
Now that she's listening properly, Finn realises that this man has an English accent. A remarkably posh one, at that. Scrambling into her dressing gown, Finn narrows her eyes dangerously.
"Just who the fuck do you think you are?" She demands, tying her dressing gown sash tight around her waist as best as she can without letting go of her small stuffed rabbit. "If you don't get out of here right now, I'm calling the police-"
"Wait." The man says again, his voice taking on a pleading note this time. "Please, I'm just- I'm looking for my brother."
"And why," Finn bites out, her shock beginning to make way for genuine anger. "Would he be in my bed?"
"Well," Sirius has the grace to look a little baffled by the question. "I didn't know this was your bedroom. I thought you were someone else."
Finn squeezes her stuffed rabbit, hard and with intent, and it grows hot in her hand. "I don't care. Get out."
Sirius blows out an irritated huff of air, but before he can say anything more, there's a loud crash from the front of the house and a man's voice starts bellowing.
